


Against All Odds

by Snapdragon83



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapdragon83/pseuds/Snapdragon83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blindspot AU in which Kurt does recognize Jane</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

It was late at night on a day that had begun well before dawn, but his work was nowhere near done yet. Special Agent Kurt Weller stifled a yawn as he descended the steps of the jet that had whisked him from Kentucky back to New York and jogged wearily across the tarmac to the waiting helicopter. He’d been up for the better part of three days working with his team to rescue the abducted women, and he had really been hoping for at least a day of downtime before catching another case.

Hope in one hand, spit in the other, he thought wryly as he slid into his seat in the helicopter. He should have taken advantage of the two-hour flight to get some shut-eye, but he had chosen to finish off the paperwork from his current case instead so he would be free to devote all his attention to whatever awaited him in New York. Details of the critical incident that had prompted his whirlwind return had been incredibly sketchy, but given the expense involved in flying him back ahead of his team, it had to be incredibly serious.

He closed his eyes as the helicopter lifted off and the next thing he knew a gentle hand was shaking him awake. “Agent Weller? We’ve arrived at Bellevue.”

He gave the helicopter pilot a weary smile of thanks as he disembarked and headed in the direction of the entrance where his boss had said she’d meet him, attempting to shake off the lingering fog of sleep that clouded his brain as he went. Hopefully after Director Mayfair briefed him on whatever was going on, he would be able to head home and rest for at least a few hours. He wasn’t going to be much use to anyone in his current state.

Mayfair glanced up at him as he approached, holding up a finger as she wrapped up the phone call she was on. “Keep me apprised of any new developments. I’ll expect you in my office first thing in the morning with a full update.” She ended the call. “Weller.” She was relieved to have her best lead agent back in New York safe and sound, but she wasted no time on pleasantries, motioning for him to walk with her as she spoke, grilling him on the details of the Kentucky operation before bringing him up to speed on their latest case.

"An NYPD officer discovered a duffel bag in Times Square tonight with a tag on it saying to call the FBI. When the NYPD sent in an officer with the Bomb Squad to examine it, a naked woman crawled out, covered in tattoos and disoriented. She’s still pretty out of it,” she added as they rounded a corner. “Almost certainly drugged. Bruising and restraint marks on her wrists and ankles.”

Kurt’s interest peaked, his tiredness instantly forgotten. At least if he had to plunge immediately into a new case, it sounded as if it was going to be an interesting one. Before he could question his boss any further, they were approached by a man in a white lab coat. “Director Mayfair.”

“Dr. Borden.” Mayfair turned to Kurt. “This is Supervisory Special Agent Kurt Weller.”

Dr. Borden’s eyes widened as he looked at Kurt. “Oh, you’re . . . Wow.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed slightly as he met the doctor’s gaze, but before he could spare more than a moment to wonder how the man knew him, Mayfair went on with the conversation. “What have you got?”

“Umm . . . we got the tox screen back. And you are not going to believe this.” Dr. Borden ushered them into an empty lab. “Are you familiar with the PKM zeta inhibitor commonly known as ZIP?”

“Doctor, you and I have very different ideas of what ‘commonly’ means,” Mayfair told him.

“Zeta interacting protein,” Borden continued, gesturing to the screen beside him where the drug’s chemical composition was displayed. “It’s an experimental drug being tested with PTSD sufferers: uh, rape victims, soldiers who’ve seen combat. Used sparingly, it can erase selective memories.”

“And you found traces in our girl,” Mayfair surmised.

“No. Not traces.” Borden glanced from Agent Weller to Director Mayfair as he spoke. “Her whole system is flooded with it. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s created a chemically induced state of permanent amnesia. She can’t remember who she is, where she came from, nothing before she crawled out of that bag in Times Square.”

Kurt was stunned to learn that not only was there a drug capable of erasing memories, but that someone had given this poor woman so much of it that she had none left. “So what does this got to do with me?” It was tragic, yes, but it hardly seemed to qualify as a critical incident. At least not one that would have sent the Bureau scrambling to get him back here. Any lead agent should have been able to handle it.

“Thank you, Dr. Borden,” Mayfair said, clearly dismissing the man. “Weller, come with me.” She led him farther down the dimly lit hallway to the room where their Jane Doe was still being examined, pausing next to the door to the room. “Do you recognize her?”

A doctor was standing in front of the woman as he stepped up to the window, and Kurt’s breath caught in his throat as the man shifted, giving him an unobstructed view. _“Taylor?”_ he breathed almost inaudibly. His blood roared in his ears, and he took a half-step back, placing a hand on the door to steady himself, unable to believe the evidence of his eyes.

“You recognize her?” Mayfair asked again.

Kurt blinked, sure that when he looked again, the woman would have morphed into someone else, someone unfamiliar, but no such luck. He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh, I know her all right. She’s . . . her name is Taylor Shaw.” He turned to Mayfair, simmering with so many conflicting emotions that his boss took several hasty steps back at the heat in his eyes. “She's my ex-wife.”

Mayfair stared at him in disbelief, the silence lengthening between them. She opened her mouth to speak, failed, and tried again. “She’s your . . .”

“Ex-wife,” Kurt supplied again. His eyes narrowed, registering the surprise on his boss’s face. “Wait. If you didn’t know that already, why did you rush me back here from Kentucky?”

Mayfair rapped on the door. She kept her eyes on him as two agents grasped Taylor’s arms and turned her around, untying her hospital gown to reveal the ink hidden beneath. “Because your name is tattooed on her back.”


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Kurt leaned back in his chair as Mayfair and Dr. Borden entered the empty waiting area down the hall from Taylor’s room, wishing he had something stronger than vending machine coffee to fortify himself for this conversation. Mayfair was undoubtedly going to want to take him off the case, given his personal connection to the victim, but he had conflicting feelings about that. Just as he had conflicting feelings about _her_.

“So, Agent Weller,” Dr. Borden said once he and Mayfair were seated, “Director Mayfair tells me that our Jane Doe is your ex-wife?”

Kurt simply nodded. He knew the doctor had intended the question to be a conversation starter, but he didn’t even know where to begin. His history with Taylor was so complicated he almost envied her lack of memory of it.

Mayfair was more direct. “Tell us about Taylor Shaw.”

“Taylor . . .” Where did he even begin? “Taylor was my next-door neighbor growing up. She started toddling after me almost as soon as she could walk, even though I was five years older. She was quite the little tomboy, absolutely fearless . . . that’s how she got the scar you probably noticed on the back of her neck.” He glanced at Dr. Borden and the other man nodded. “I stepped on her hand accidentally when we were climbing a tree together. We were up pretty high and she slipped and fell, cut herself.” He shook his head a little at the memory. “She was only five years old at the time, but she barely cried. She was determined to show me how tough she was.”

“In high school . . .” Kurt felt a reluctant smile form as he thought of her as she was back when he had begun falling in love with her. “In high school, Taylor was the quintessential all-American girl, the one all the others loved to hate but secretly wanted to be, you know? Smart, athletic, popular, funny . . . She was a star soccer player in high school and graduated with a 4.0 GPA. Got accepted to Stanford. She planned to be a doctor.”

“You don’t know if she ever became one?” Dr. Borden inquired.

Kurt shook his head. “She was just finishing up her undergraduate degree when we split up. I was at Quantico at the time, and she was waiting to see where the FBI sent me so she could apply to medical school in whatever city I was assigned to. At least,” he added wryly, “that’s what we had talked about. Obviously, her plans changed, because three weeks after I started training, she sent me a Dear John letter saying she’d met someone else and wanted a divorce. That was almost nine years ago, and our only contact after that was through our lawyers.” As per her wishes. He hadn’t cared too much at the time, but once his anger cooled, he’d always regretted not demanding a face-to-face explanation. Something he would likely never get now.

“Do you happen to know the man’s name?” Mayfair asked.

“No,” Kurt admitted wearily. “She never told me, and I didn’t look into it. I didn’t want to know.” He’d been completely blindsided by the whole thing and so angry he honestly didn’t care. He’d thought whatever sucker Taylor had managed to snare in her net deserved the heartbreak she’d bring him.

“That’s completely understandable, Agent Weller,” Dr. Borden said sympathetically.

“But it means that this Taylor Shaw’s last eight years are a complete blank at the moment,” Mayfair summarized, wanting to keep the conversation on track rather than allow the psychologist to analyze how Weller felt about such a betrayal. It sounded as if he could stand to talk through some of his issues on that front, but now was not the time or the place. “Were she and her mother close? Do you think she could shed any light on what Taylor’s been up to since you saw her last?”

“They were as close as any mother and daughter I’ve ever seen, but Emma died of cancer when Taylor was sixteen,” Kurt replied. “She’d been sick a long time and she fought hard, but she just couldn’t beat it. Her death was the driving reason behind Taylor’s desire to become a doctor. She wanted to help find a cure.”

“What about extended family?” Mayfair queried. “Any aunts, uncles, cousins? Was her father in her life at all? There must be someone she was close to who could give us a lead in this case.”

Kurt shook his head. “No one other than us. If Emma had any living relatives, they never came around and she never mentioned them, so she must not have gotten along with them. As for Taylor’s father, all Emma would ever say about him was that he wasn’t who she’d thought he was, and Taylor was better off without him in her life. Taylor spent so much time at our house growing up that she was practically like family, and we took her in after her mother died.”

"What about close friends from high school or college?” Mayfair persisted. “There must be someone who stands out in your mind that she might have stayed in contact with.” Surely a girl as remarkable as Weller had just described could not have gone missing without someone noticing. If he could still speak of her with such affection after what she’d done to him, there must be someone else out there who cared for her.

“She had a number of friends in high school, but she wasn’t particularly close to any of them, and I think she lost touch with them once she moved out to California to go to college. I know she had a roommate out there she was pretty close to, uh . . . Linsey . . . Lisa . . . Lily . . . something like that. Her name escapes me at the moment, but I’ll keep trying to remember.”

“It was good of your parents to take Taylor in,” Dr. Borden commented. “It says a lot for their influence that Taylor was able to maintain her GPA and get into such a prestigious college while dealing with the loss of her mother.”

It wasn’t actually his parents who had taken Taylor in, but Kurt let the doctor’s assumption slide. He would have to come clean at some point, no doubt, but he didn’t feel like opening that particular can of worms tonight.

“I’ll appreciate any insights you can give us, Weller, but given your rocky history with the victim in this case, I'm going to have to assign a new lead agent,” Mayfair told him. “I—”

  
“No!” Kurt interrupted, his vehemence surprising both Mayfair and Dr. Borden, but himself most of all. He hadn’t known he felt so strongly about the issue until this very moment. Even if Taylor couldn’t provide him some answers, some closure, the investigation might, and he didn’t want to lose out on that chance a second time. “I think it’s premature to make that call. Look, I’ll agree to step down if it gets to be too much, but for now I think my knowledge of Taylor outweighs any potential conflicts because of our past. It is my name tattooed on her back, after all. Someone put that there for a reason.”

“Yes, and for all we know, she could be that someone,” Mayfair retorted, ignoring his obvious skepticism. “Or at least be working with them. That woman in there is not the Taylor Shaw you knew, Weller. Her mind’s been wiped, and God only knows what else was done to her before that. Not to mention, from the way you just talked about her, it sounds as if you still care a great deal for her, despite everything she’s put you through. Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you’ll be able to arrest her if it turns out she’s a criminal?”

“Yes.” Kurt met his boss’s gaze unflinchingly. “If it turns out she’s done anything illegal, I’ll slap the cuffs on her myself.” And then he would contact the best criminal defense attorney in the city, because if Taylor had committed a crime, it damn sure wasn’t of her own free will. She’d never even had a speeding ticket in all the time he’d known her. Cheating on him was probably the worst thing she’d ever done in her life, but as unforgiveable as he found that, he also understood it. She’d been much too young and sheltered to make such a monumental commitment. He just wished she’d handled things differently. He wished they both had.

Mayfair pursed her lips as she considered his request. On the one hand, in a case with so many unknowns, Weller’s connection to the victim _could_ be an asset, as he had suggested, but she had to weigh the potential advantages against the very real possibility that such a connection could lead to serious errors in judgment on his part. And there was no guarantee given her amnesia that Taylor Shaw’s reactions, her emotions and motivations, would be the same as what Weller remembered.

She glanced at Dr. Borden but he was uncharacteristically silent, his face giving away nothing of what he thought. Finally, reluctantly, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Weller. As much as I’d like to, I can’t let you stay on as lead agent. I’m going to ask Agent Bryant to take over.” He and Weller had worked together in the past and had a solid rapport. He would be the least likely to be irritated by Weller’s inevitable oversight of the case.

Kurt would have liked to have argued the point further, but one glance at Mayfair’s tightly clenched jaw told him it would be fruitless. Looked like he was going to get that downtime he’d been wishing for after all. He bit back a sigh, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. “Cole’s a good man,” he said quietly. And an excellent agent. Next to him and his team, he didn’t know anyone he would sooner trust to get justice for Taylor.

“He is,” Mayfair agreed. “Which may make what I’m about to say a bit contradictory. Unless either of you can give me a compelling reason otherwise, I’d like to keep the news of your marriage to Taylor under wraps for now. As far as anyone else in the office needs to know, even Agent Bryant, Taylor was your childhood friend, nothing more.”  
Kurt stared at her in stunned disbelief, sure he had heard her wrong, but her sober expression quickly put that notion to rest. He opened his mouth to speak, but realized he had no idea what to say. Just when he had thought this situation couldn’t get any more bizarre . . .

Dr. Borden was at no such loss for words. “That’s impossible, Director. Marriage certificates and divorce decrees are public record, and your agents are about to put Taylor Shaw’s life under a microscope. Not to mention, withholding such a key piece of information about her past won’t engender much trust in her for the FBI.”

“And what do you think announcing to the entire office that she cheated on one of its most respected agents will do, Doctor?” Mayfair shot back. “She’ll be a pariah the minute that gets out, and that will do more to damage her trust in us than withholding information she can’t remember anyway. It’s not as if we’re lying to her, after all. She and Weller were childhood friends. We’re simply omitting the fact that they grew into more than that.”

Kurt finally found his voice. “Why? I can understand how it might appear to be a conflict of interest if I was her lead agent, but since I’m off the case—”

“You’re not off the case,” Mayfair interrupted. “I simply can’t allow you to remain on it as lead agent. I still believe your insights will be valuable, and I want you working it in a secondary capacity when time permits. As for why the secrecy, call it gut instinct, an ace up our sleeve, as it were. Someone out there has a plan, and until we determine whether your marriage factors into it, I’ll be damned if I’ll put one of my agents at risk by blindly playing into their hands.” She might feel differently if he hadn’t had such a personal connection to the victim, but this was too blatant a challenge to ignore.

She saw Kurt shift uncomfortably and continued on. “Look, I’m not suggesting we withhold this information from her forever. We can revisit this issue later if need be, once we have a better idea what’s going on here, but for now I think our best course of action is for me to get the records pertaining to your marriage sealed. You can’t deny it won’t be easier on you as well. Do you really want your personal life to become fodder for the office gossip mill?”

With the exception of once dating a colleague, Kurt had _always_ kept his private life separate from his professional one. He couldn’t deny he would prefer to continue to do so, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. “I want what’s best for Taylor,” he said firmly. “Let’s not forget she’s the victim in this case. If knowing about our past will keep even one agent from giving their best to get justice for her, then by all means, keep it a secret if you can manage it.” It might well be too much for Taylor to handle on top of her amnesia, anyway. “If not . . .”

His voice trailed off and he gave his head a quick shake, as if to physically clear his mind. “I want what’s best for Taylor,” he repeated.

“Then it’s settled,” Mayfair said briskly, giving Kurt’s shoulder a quick squeeze as she rose. “Go home and get some sleep, Weller; you look like hell. And you might want to fill your sister in on what’s going on before she sees it on the news; every station in the Tri-State area has been calling our office for comment since the story broke. Taylor’s identity won’t hold for long.”

She made her way to the door and hesitated before turning to face him again. “Oh, and Weller?” He raised an eyebrow and she smiled faintly. “If she couldn’t see what a good man she had, she didn’t deserve you anyway.”


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

He awoke to an unpleasant aroma and the blare of a TV. Kurt groaned as he opened one eye and glanced at the time on his bedside clock. Just after seven o’clock, which meant that smell must be Sarah cooking breakfast. He rolled over, wanting more sleep than the five hours he’d gotten, when the events of the night before came flooding back and he sat bolt upright in bed. _Taylor!_

He showered and dressed quickly, mindful of Mayfair’s warning about the media’s interest in Taylor’s case, and made his way to the kitchen just in time to see Sarah place the remains of a burnt omelet in the trash. “Good morning, sis.”

Sarah spun around. “Kurt! Oh, dammit, did I wake you? I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have turned the TV up so loud if I’d known you were home. It’s just that there was this really interesting news story about this woman the police found drugged and naked in Times Square last night and . . . never mind about all that. What time did you get back from Kentucky?”

“Late,” Kurt said as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Or early, depending on how you look at it.” He took a seat at the kitchen counter. “I actually got called back because of that woman they found. Has Sawyer already left for school?”

Sarah shook her head. “He had a sleepover at Billy’s house last night, remember? He’s been talking about it since last week. God, that is just so awful,” she said, returning her attention to the news program as they began to replay the woman’s story. “Who would do that to that poor woman?” She glanced over at Kurt. “How did the FBI get involved? According to the news report I saw earlier, the NYPD found her.”

“They did.” Kurt hesitated, debating how much to tell her. Not that he had that many details as of yet. “The FBI got called in because she had an agent’s name tattooed on her back.”

Kurt wasn’t quite meeting her eyes as he spoke, and a terrible sense of foreboding gripped Sarah. Her brother rarely discussed work with her and for him to volunteer information . . . “Which agent’s name?” she demanded.

“Mine,” Kurt admitted, confirming what he could see his sister already suspected. “They flew me back ahead of Reade and Zapata to see if I could identify her.”

“And did you?” Sarah did her best to keep the edge out of her voice. As if her brother’s job wasn’t dangerous enough, now he was apparently being targeted by someone who thought nothing of doing only god knew what to a defenseless woman. He didn’t immediately answer and she frowned at him. “What aren’t you telling me, Kurt?”

“The woman . . . It’s Taylor, Sarah.” Kurt watched her face as the truth sank in, saw the shock morph into disbelief, then anger. “I know this is difficult for you to hear . . .”

“The only thing I’m having difficulty with at the moment is the fact that I wasted time this morning feeling sorry for her,” Sarah spat. That woman had torn Kurt’s heart out and stomped on it without a moment’s hesitation and now she had the nerve to reinsert herself into his life? Unbelievable. “Tell me, does she have the names of all the suckers whose hearts she’s broken tattooed on her body, or are you special because you were her first?”

Kurt gaped at her, and Sarah winced as she heard how that sounded. “I’m sorry. That was out of line, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to you make excuses for her again. I’ve heard all of them over the years, and they’re all bullshit in my opinion. I don’t deny that she was too young to make a lifelong commitment when she married you, but even if she did confuse affection for you with lasting love, it doesn’t excuse what she did. She was an adult when she left you; if she had chosen to act like one, I might have a modicum of sympathy for her now. Assuming she actually is the victim in this case, of course.”

“She is,” Kurt interrupted before his sister could launch into another diatribe against Taylor. However justified it might be, he’d heard them all before. “She has amnesia, caused by an experimental drug she was given. I didn’t speak to her personally, but one of the doctors who’s treating her told me that she can’t remember anything about her life before crawling out of that bag in Times Square last night.”

“Oh my god.” Sarah’s anger dissipated in an instant as she stared at Kurt with horror-filled eyes. For all the uncharitable thoughts she had entertained about Taylor over the years, for all her unkind words just now, she would never have wished something like this on her. To have your whole life erased and wake up in a public place with no sense of self . . . she couldn’t imagine anything more awful than that. “My god, Kurt. Is it . . . do the doctors think she’ll get her memory back eventually?”

 _Good question._ “I don’t know,” Kurt admitted. “I didn’t think to ask.” Though he did seem to recall Dr. Borden saying something about it being a permanent state, which didn’t bode well for her chances of recovery. He found himself hoping she would prove the doctor wrong.

“So she had nothing to do with this?” Sarah asked as she came around the counter and took the seat next to her brother. “She really is just an innocent victim in all of this?”

Kurt shrugged. “The investigation’s just getting underway, but I assume so. It’s hard to imagine that anyone would willingly put themselves through this when they could just come in and ask for help. If Taylor were in trouble, I’d like to think she’d know that she wouldn’t need to go to such extremes to secure my assistance, despite our past history.”

Of course she wouldn’t. Her brother was too much of a boy scout to turn away anyone in need. Even _her_. “So someone who knew of your past history with Taylor did this to her, then,” Sarah theorized. “Does the FBI have any leads on who that might be? I mean, it must be someone with a grudge against you, right? Why else use your ex-wife to . . .” To what, exactly? Send him a message? Cause him pain? If they wanted to do that without directly inflicting it on Kurt himself, it would have made more sense to grab someone involved in his life in the present. Someone like her. Or Sawyer.

 _Oh God. Sawyer_. He’d promised to call her before he left for school this morning, but he should have already been there by now. What if Taylor’s reappearance was just a diversion and the same person who had done this to her had taken him?

“Sarah? What’s wrong?” Kurt asked as his sister turned as white as a sheet and made a desperate grab for the phone on the counter between them.

“Sawyer . . .” It was all Sarah could do to force the words out. “Sawyer was supposed to call me this morning, but I haven’t heard from him. What if . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence, but she saw understanding dawn on Kurt’s face.

“Calm down, sis. Breathe.” Kurt gently pried the phone from Sarah’s shaking hands. “I’ll give Billy’s mom a call to make sure Sawyer got to school safely, but I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Sawyer’s a nine-year-old kid; he probably either forgot, or didn’t want to look bad in front of his friend by having to call his mommy. I’m sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll feel better when I hear that from Susan.” Sarah knew she was probably overreacting, but she was justifiably freaked out right now.

“I know.” Kurt gently draped an arm over his sister’s shoulders and pulled her into his side as he scrolled down her contact list. “I’ll call her right now.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm as he spoke to the other woman. “Sawyer is fine. Susan dropped the boys off at school ten minutes ago, and she watched them both go inside before she left. She apologized for not having him call you this morning, but they were running late, so she told him she'd do it for him. She was just about to dial your number when I called.”

Sarah blew out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “Oh, thank God. And thank you for making the call for me. I probably would have scared poor Susan to death. It’s just if anything happened to Sawyer . . .”

“You know I’ll always do everything in my power to keep that from happening, right?” Kurt honestly didn’t think his nephew’s kidnapping was a part of this unsub’s plan—it felt much more elaborate than that—but it couldn’t hurt to take precautions until they knew for sure. “I’m going to start digging into my old cases as soon as I get to work today to see if anyone who’s capable of this kind of thing has been released recently.” He didn’t recall any cases with similar MO’s, but that didn’t mean someone he had put away hadn’t come up with a creative new way to target the cop who had imprisoned them.

“In the meantime, it can’t hurt to take precautions. No one can take Sawyer out of school without your permission, but it might be a good idea to call and warn them to be extra vigilant right now. I’ll follow you to work to make sure you get there safely.” Fortunately, Sarah worked in a hospital as a physical therapist, so there was no shortage of armed guards around to protect her if need be. “If anything feels off today, and I mean _anything_ , call security immediately. I’d much rather you have to apologize for a false alarm than to be the cause of a real one.” This wasn’t the first time that Kurt had confronted the possibility that his job might put his loved ones at risk, but Sarah had always been oblivious to the danger in the past. Seeing her fear today drove that point home in a whole new way. “And I also want you to have a security guard walk you to your car at night until I give you the all-clear. Promise me.”

“I promise.” Sarah felt ridiculous saying that when her brother was the one who would no doubt be running headlong into danger today in order to discover who was behind this. She pulled out from under his arm and shifted on the stool to face him, studying him soberly. “I know better than to ask you to take yourself off this case, but you be careful as well, okay?” Someone out there had him in their sights for an as yet unknown reason, and no matter how awful what had happened to Taylor was, justice for her was absolutely not worth his life.

“Actually . . .” Kurt drew the word out and saw Sarah’s eyes light with nervous anticipation. Actually, Mayfair’s already removed me as lead agent. She was afraid that I might be too emotionally involved to be objective.”

From her brother’s disgruntled tone, it was clear that he disagreed with that assessment. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but she is right. I’ve never seen you look at another woman the way you did Taylor, and you started falling in love with her when she was emotionally vulnerable, just like she’s going to be now. I was there to pick up the pieces when she broke your heart, and I don’t want to see you go through that again.” Truth be told, she still didn’t think he’d completely recovered from it.

“I don’t intend to,” Kurt replied dismissively. The walls around his heart were Taylor-proof now. He might be a little slow on the uptake at times, but that was one mistake he wouldn’t be making twice. “Look, Sarah . . . I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have anything to worry about. More than likely, the moment we put Taylor’s face and identity out on the news, the man she left me for will come to claim her.” Though he was going to make damn sure that that man wasn’t also the one who had done this to her before he let her leave with him again.

Sarah nodded slowly. She wished she could share his confidence, but Taylor Shaw had always been his blind spot. The last time she’d been in trouble, he’d rearranged his entire life to help her, and she had repaid that sacrifice with the cruelest betrayal imaginable. If there was one bright spot in this entire mess, it was that Taylor had amnesia, because if she were able to give Kurt the slightest justification for what she’d done, Sarah feared her brother would be incapable of maintaining any emotional distance from her.

“Well, at least you’ll finally have that man’s name and face, know that she’s been happy and well-cared for.” Kurt might not ever admit it, but she knew that lack of closure had haunted him. He’d promised Emma Shaw on her deathbed that he would care for her daughter, and in his mind, he’d broken that vow when he’d let Taylor waltz off with a stranger without making any effort to look into him. Never mind that she had chosen to do so at the expense of the vows she had made to him.

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed halfheartedly, wondering for the umpteenth time what he would be like, this man who had stolen Taylor’s heart from him. Wondering what this nameless, faceless stranger had offered her that he hadn’t. He sighed as he stood up. “If you’re ready to go, I should probably head in to the office. I’m gonna have a lot of files to go through today. I’ll call you once I know something one way or the other.”

“Or anytime . . . if you need to talk,” Sarah offered as she got to her feet as well. “I’m sorry for my outburst this morning, and I promise to listen without badmouthing Taylor. I’m here for you if you need me, Kurt.”

“I know, sis,” Kurt told her as he hugged her tightly. “You always have been, and I appreciate all your support. I know I don’t say it nearly often enough, but you mean the world to me, you and Sawyer, and I don’t know what I would ever do without you guys.”

“Fortunately, that’s not something you ever have to worry about.” Sarah smiled mistily up at Kurt. He really was the best big brother she could have ever asked for. “I have an apartment broker scheduled for the day after tomorrow, so we’ll be out of your hair in no time, but I promise, we won’t be going far.” She hoped to find her own place within a few blocks of here so she and Sawyer could visit often.

“There’s no rush, Sarah,” Kurt told her as he released her and started for his bedroom to retrieve his badge and gun, then turned back. “Oh, one more thing. For the time being, Mayfair and I agreed that it would be best to keep the news of my marriage to Taylor quiet, so if you run into anyone from the office, we were just childhood friends, nothing more.”

“Do you think that’s wise? Lying to her? Lying to the people you trust to have your back every day?” Sarah was justifiably concerned. That trust was a two-way street, and if Kurt’s decision eroded theirs in him, it could place every member of his team in jeopardy.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” Kurt said wearily, already wishing this day were at an end. Wishing he weren’t always the one who had to try to anticipate every possible thing that could go wrong. “Mayfair had valid reasons for wanting to keep it a secret, and since I felt that news might be a bit much for Taylor to handle right now on top of her amnesia, I decided to go along with it. It’s not as if Reade and Zapata and I discuss our personal lives much anyway—” at least he rarely discussed his with them, “—and as Mayfair said, we’re not lying so much as simply not telling the whole story.”

Sarah’s look was frankly skeptical, but she simply kissed Kurt on the cheek as she brushed past him to pick up her purse. She would have loved to ask him if Mayfair was also going to take the heat for this decision when it inevitably blew up in their faces, but she supposed in the end it didn’t really matter. She would be here for Kurt just as she always had, just as she always would.

He had always done the same for her, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Agent Bryant was waiting for Kurt when he arrived in his office on the morning of the second day since they’d found Taylor. “Morning, Bryant,” he greeted as he came around his desk and draped his suit jacket over the back of his chair before taking a seat. This was the first time he had seen him since Bryant caught Taylor’s case and he really hoped the man’s cheerful demeanor indicated he had turned up something useful.

“Weller,” Cole acknowledged in return. “Since your team’s going to be backing me up on the Taylor Shaw investigation, I’d like to meet with you in the mornings whenever possible to discuss new developments in the case.” Though their schedules would likely conflict more often than not.

“Of course.” Kurt only wished he had more to report. “Reade and Zapata and I spent the entire day yesterday going through my old cases, but of the fifteen suspects that we felt had both the resources and brainpower needed to pull something like this off, six are still in prison, three are dead, and four have been model citizens, according to their parole officers. We’re double-checking their alibis, of course, and Reade and Zapata are going to be looking into the last two men today, but I’m not holding out much hope that anything will pan out there.”

“Neither am I,” Bryant agreed. “I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that someone you’ve arrested would avenge their grudge against you by wiping the memory of one of your childhood friends, tattooing your name on her back, and sending her back to you. I think if you had put away anyone that twisted, their name would have immediately come to mind. I know criminals aren’t always the most logical of individuals, but why not take your sister or nephew, someone whose absence would really hit home with you, rather than a young woman you haven’t seen in nearly a decade?”

Kurt nodded. Despite the fact that his connection to Taylor was more personal than Bryant knew, his thoughts had been running along that same line. “That’s been puzzling me, too.” Why would anyone smart enough to pull off this elaborate a plan pick a victim he had no connection to any longer? He was closer to the cashier at his local supermarket than he was to Taylor. “Any luck on tracing Taylor’s whereabouts?”

Cole shook his head. “Afraid not. Your girl became a ghost around the time you told Mayfair you lost contact with her. Deleted all her social media accounts, cancelled her credit cards and cell phone, and dropped out of college. She do—”

“Hold on,” Kurt interrupted. “You’re absolutely certain she dropped out of Stanford? That makes no sense. She only had a few months left to go to graduate.” And she couldn’t get into medical school without doing so. Giving up on their marriage was one thing, but the dream she’d been hyper-focused on since she was thirteen, her future livelihood? Impossible. Taylor wouldn’t have thrown all that away, not even for a guy she was crazy about. She was too driven, too stubborn, too . . . too . . . just _too_.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Cole shrugged apologetically. “All I know is, wherever she’s been for the past nine years, it’s been under an assumed name or completely off the grid. Normally, that sort of behavior would suggest to me that a person had been witness to a violent crime or had a stalker, but you were working as a San Francisco police officer at the time, correct? That’s only about an hour away from Stanford, so if something like that were going on, she could have come to you for help.”

Cole had certainly done his homework. He was connecting the dots of their shared history with alarming speed. Kurt could only hope Mayfair had been as quick and thorough about erasing those portions of that history they didn’t want exposed. “If something like that were going on, she absolutely would have come to me for help,” he replied with finality.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Cole agreed. “Not to mention, as I was about to say earlier, she does still have a bank account with over a million dollars in it, and according to bank records, she didn’t withdraw any of it around that time. Or any time since. Kind of hard to go on the run without any means of support.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Weller. “Are you aware you’re a signatory on that account as well?” He hadn’t quite believed it when one of his agents brought that fact to his attention, but when he’d compared the bank’s faxed paperwork to documents Weller had signed here, the signatures had clearly matched.

 _Damn it, Taylor! You were supposed to take my name_ off _the account after the divorce_. Kurt kept his composure with an effort. “Obviously, I was aware of it, since I cosigned the papers to open the account. I just assumed that once we lost touch, she would have taken my name off it. The money came from her mom’s life insurance policy and the sale of her house,” he added. Cole hadn’t asked, but Kurt wanted there to be no doubt that it was all obtained legally. “And like I explained to Mayfair, Sarah and I were the only family Taylor had, and she wanted the money to go to us,”— _me_ — “without having to jump through a bunch of legal hoops if anything happened to her, hence the joint account.”

That story had more holes than Swiss cheese, but Cole let it slide. He’d suspected from the moment he was assigned this case that the affection Weller had once felt for Taylor Shaw had been more than brotherly in nature, or Mayfair wouldn’t have assigned him to oversee a case that was so clearly tailor-made for her golden boy. It was apparent to him that the two had been intimately involved at some point, and Weller was downplaying the failed relationship now, most likely in order to spare Taylor’s feelings.

He changed the subject. “Have you had the chance to look at the pictures I sent you of Taylor’s tattoos? Mayfair and I are going to meet with Agent Patterson shortly to discuss them again, and I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the matter. She told us yesterday that the tattoos are all new, but they’re all so ornate that the black square on her left shoulder struck me as odd. I couldn’t help wondering if it’s covering up another tattoo.”

Kurt had wondered that as well. “She didn’t have one there when I knew her, but they’re not all new.” He opened the folder he had dropped on his desk when he walked in and pulled out the photo of her inner left forearm. “The ES on her wrist here—” he tapped the picture for emphasis, “—it’s her mother’s initials, Emma Shaw. She got it on the second anniversary of her mother’s death.” He’d held her hand while she’d had it done.

Cole frowned as he leaned forward to study the photo. “Why would our unsub choose to cover up one of her tattoos, but not the other? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe that tattoo would have given us some clue as to her whereabouts these past few years,” Kurt suggested. Of course, that opened up the disquieting possibility that Taylor had been held against her will for god only knew how long. The information Cole had unearthed so far pointed in that direction as well. He sighed as he ran a frustrated hand through his short hair. They were two days into the investigation and they had not one solid lead to show for it. “It’s really starting to feel like we’re spinning our wheels on this one, Bryant.”

“Patience, Weller,” Cole said sympathetically. “We’ve been on this less than forty-eight hours, and we just released a photo of Taylor to the media last night. There’s a good chance that will generate a credible tip by the end of the day.”

“Maybe,” Kurt agreed, but he wasn’t at all hopeful. The contradictions between Taylor’s actions that they had unearthed so far and the girl he thought he’d known were so troubling that he was no longer sure his insights would be of any value. This case felt like one that was going to hit more dead ends than green lights. He changed the subject. “I know you must have spoken to Taylor by now. How is she doing?”

“Better than I would be under the circumstances,” Cole admitted with a faintly admiring laugh. “That’s one feisty lady you’ve got there, Weller. She intimidated the hell out of the polygraph examiner yesterday. Actually stopped in the middle of the test, unhooked herself from the machine, and demanded to speak to someone in charge.”

That, at least, was so like his Taylor that Kurt couldn’t help but smile as well. “She was never shy about making her needs—or her wants—known.” Not from the time she was old enough to voice them. Not even before that.

Cole smiled in return, but it faded quickly. “That’s got to be doubly frustrating for her now then. When I dropped her off at the safe house last night, I told her to have the security guys pick her up some food if she was hungry, but she had no idea what she liked.” He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to not know something so basic about yourself. And to stare in the mirror and see a stranger’s face looking back at you . . .

“I can write you out a list of her favorite foods to give to her,” Kurt said gruffly, more affected than he cared to admit by that image as well.

“Why not give it to her yourself?” Cole asked. “She wants to meet you.”

Kurt stilled. He should have been expecting that request, and maybe a part of him had, but it was still a shock to hear it voiced aloud. Since Mayfair had chosen to remove him as lead agent, he’d almost convinced himself he could stay apprised of the developments in Taylor’s case without ever having to interact with her. A vain hope, if ever there was one. “I, uh . . .”

“Look, I don’t know exactly what went down between the two of you all those years ago, and I don’t care,” Cole bit out. “It’s obvious to me that the two of you were much more than friends and that it ended badly, but as far as I’m concerned, no matter who was at fault, unless and until she regains her memories, you need to let it go. That woman has been through hell, is going through hell, and at the moment, you’re the only link she has to her past. I’m not going to referee all your interactions; if you’re not willing to meet with her and start filling in some of those blanks, then I’m going to recommend to Mayfair that she take you completely off this case.”

 _I’d like to see you try_ , Kurt thought hotly before he paused to consider the fairness of the other man’s words. Bryant was right: no matter their past, Taylor deserved the same measure of compassion he would give to any other victim, the same level of professionalism he would bring to any other case. If he couldn’t do that, if he couldn’t be a part of the solution, at the very least he could avoid adding to her problems. He blew out a breath as he met Bryant’s eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Would you like me to meet with her now?”

Cole shook his head. “Jane’s in a session with Dr. Borden right now. Actually, he mentioned yesterday that there was a chance familiar stimuli might help her to remember something, and I’d like to test that theory before the two of you are formally introduced, if you don’t mind. Perhaps you could drop by the bullpen in thirty minutes or so, see if your face triggers any memories for her.”

Kurt very much doubted he was the familiar stimuli Dr. Borden had had in mind when he suggested that. Or maybe he was. The good doctor hadn’t exactly been shy in voicing his disapproval of Mayfair’s proposed secrecy, and Kurt suspected he was the type that would go to any lengths necessary to protect his patients.

Cole cleared his throat and Kurt belatedly realized that he was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll be there,” he promised, and was relieved when Bryant finally got up to leave. He was going to need every one of the ensuing minutes to prepare himself for that reunion.

When he walked into the bullpen a few minutes past the agreed-upon time, all hell had broken loose. Kurt arrived just in time to hear Bryant tell Taylor, “I am not going to take you out in the field.”

 _Out in the field where?_ Kurt wondered as he came to a stop next to Reade and Zapata. Judging by the tense body language of Bryant’s team, he had missed an important break in the case, but before he could ask one of his agents what was going on, Taylor diverted their attention again.

“Am I under arrest?” Taylor demanded as her eyes connected briefly with the intense blue-eyed gaze of a stubbled man standing behind and to the left of Agent Bryant. He was looking at her as if he could see into her very soul, and she couldn’t help the shiver that snaked down its way down her spine.

“No, you’re not,” Bryant told her, wondering how on earth he was going to convince this incredibly stubborn woman to stay here where she’d be safe. He could feel Weller’s hot gaze on his back, and he knew instinctively that no matter the discord between those two, there would be hell for him to pay if anything happened to her.

Fortunately, Mayfair intervened. “Look. We’d all feel a lot more comfortable if you stayed in protective custody.”

Taylor glanced from Mayfair to Bryant. “Well, I would feel a lot more comfortable if I could ask this guy why his address is stamped on my head, so unless you are detaining me, I am going.” Bryant looked to Mayfair for help, and Taylor turned to her as well.

Clearly, there was going to be no dissuading the woman from her decision. Mayfair nodded to Bryant. “Take her with you.”

Taylor’s gaze fell on the stubbled man again for a brief instant as she turned on her heel and strode to the elevator. His blue eyes were blazing, and she found herself wondering what she had done to upset him so. Perhaps he was the childhood friend Agent Bryant had told her about, the mysterious Agent Kurt Weller, whose name was tattooed on her back. Concern for her seemed to be the most likely explanation for his apparent fury at her actions. She made a mental note to ask Bryant once they had confronted Chao.

Kurt turned to Mayfair as soon as the elevator doors had closed on Bryant’s team, intending to protest—strongly—her decision to let Taylor go with them, but she held up a hand before he could utter a word. “My office. Now.” She led the way into the room and rounded on him as soon as the door closed behind him. “Let’s get something straight right now. Just because I am allowing you to help work this case does not mean you get a say in how it’s run. I’m willing to give you a little latitude here because of your relationship with Taylor, but if you have a problem with any of the decisions I make, I expect you to come to me privately, not air your grievances in front of everyone. Understood?”

He was certainly getting his share of dressing-downs today. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d seen the sideways glances all the agents were giving him—even his own team—and he was well aware he’d just given them cause to speculate about him and Taylor. That increased scrutiny wasn’t going to be beneficial to either one of them, and he silently cursed his lack of self-control. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. But letting Taylor go out in the field—”

“She was going to go regardless of whether I let her or not, Weller,” Mayfair said gently. “I have no probable cause to detain her here against her will, and it’s much better that she’s with trained agents than out there on her own. We’re assuming that this unsub’s plan, whatever it is, is aimed at you, but it’s possible someone could have a grudge against her as well. I didn’t assign her a protective detail just for the heck of it.” It was far too expensive a decision to be taken lightly.

Mayfair’s face softened as she watched her words sink in. “I know it’s been a difficult couple of days for you, Kurt. Unless a critical incident comes up, why don’t you catch up on your paperwork, take off early tonight.” She hesitated before offering her next suggestion. “And it might not be a bad idea to start seeing Dr. Borden on a more regular basis to talk through some of your issues regarding Taylor now that you’re going to be seeing her regularly again.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kurt said as he followed her over to the table and took the seat across from her. He really didn’t feel that was necessary, but dismissing it out of hand would only cause unnecessary friction. “What can you tell me about this lead Agent Bryant and his team are following? I missed that part of the conversation.”

“The Chinese tattoo behind Taylor’s left ear was today’s date and an address in Chinatown. The address belongs to Chao Zheng, a Chinese national with a clean record who’s been here for three years. That’s all we know at this point. Bryant is going to check in as soon as they talk to him.”

“Please . . . let me know when you hear something,” Kurt requested, and when Mayfair nodded, he rose and fled to the sanctuary of his own office. Judging by the furtive looks other agents were giving him as he passed, the gossip about him and Taylor was already well underway.

He was definitely going to be taking Mayfair up on that offer to leave early tonight.

xxx

Weller wasn’t on the case.

The bearded man watched from the shadows across the street as the FBI team left Chao’s apartment and sped away in search of him. They’d feared this might happen, given their girl’s connection to him, but he’d been hoping against hope that Mayfair would see their past as an asset rather than a liability.

Unfortunately, she had left them no choice but to force her hand.

He sighed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick message to another member of their group. He’d been hoping not to have to use this particular contingency plan, but orders were orders and he was a loyal soldier. They both were.

He sent the message and hopped in his own vehicle to resume his surveillance of the FBI.

xxx

Normally, Kurt hated being cooped up in his office doing paperwork, but today he found himself appreciating the peace and quiet. Unfortunately, it didn’t last as long as he would have liked. Shortly after lunch, reports of Taylor’s exploits began circulating through the office, and Tasha seized on the opportunity they afforded her to appease her curiosity by apprising him of every one of them.

Taylor had personally translated the tattoo that gave Agent Bryant’s team their first lead in her case. (Was she fluent in Chinese when you knew her, boss?)

 _She didn’t speak Chinese, but she did have an aptitude for languages, so it doesn’t surprise me._ She had been fluent in three, and knew bits and pieces of another half dozen.

Taylor did in fact have another tattoo under the black square on her shoulder, an eagle holding a trident and anchor, suggesting she might have been a Navy SEAL. (Did she have plans to enlist in the military?)

 _No, Tasha, she wanted to be a doctor._ Once again, he found himself wondering why she had abandoned that dream.

Taylor had put two Chinese men in the hospital defending one of the men’s battered wife while Agent Bryant’s team was at Chao’s apartment. (Do you think she really was a Navy SEAL?)

 _That would explain a few things._ Like why they had been unable to track her whereabouts for the past nine years. _She took martial arts classes with me as a kid, but she didn’t learn to fight like that at our local dojo._ The real question was why Bryant had left Taylor unattended long enough for her to get into such an altercation.

Soon, Bryant had even more to answer for: he had allowed Taylor to accompany his team to Liberty Island in pursuit of Chao, and Chao had shot her. Granted, she’d been wearing a vest and the bullet had just grazed her arm, but Bryant never should have put her in that position. Kurt was definitely going to be having a serious chat tomorrow with him and Mayfair about Taylor’s role in this investigation.

He couldn’t deny his first reaction had been pride when he heard she’d saved Bryant’s life, however.

xxx

“Thanks for walking me to my car again tonight, Sam,” Sarah told the middle-aged security guard as they stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. He had volunteered for the duty for as long as she needed him yesterday after she had shared a few details of the potential threat against her brother. Against her family. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’m happy to help,” Sam replied as they walked through the dimly lit garage toward Sarah’s car. Both his brothers were cops and he would have been as well, had an old football injury not disqualified him from serving in that capacity. As sorry as he had been to hear about the threat against the Wellers, it had provided him with an opportunity to feel more useful than he had in years, and he was determined to ensure Sarah’s safety, even if it came at the expense of his own.

Some sacrifices were worth making, after all, he thought, smiling down at her as he pulled her car door open for her.

xxx

Even though Taylor’s wound had been minor and the paramedics had bandaged her up, Cole had insisted on them taking her to the hospital to get checked out and had personally accompanied her, feeling like it was the least he could do after she had gotten injured on his watch. Also, he admitted to himself, it had given him a brief reprieve from the inevitable confrontation with Weller over today’s events. “Thanks for saving my life today,” he told her as the elevator opened on the parking level. He motioned for her to step off first, and the two of them walked through the parking structure to the car his team had dropped off there for him.

“Don’t mention it,” Taylor said with a faint smile. She wasn’t being modest; she genuinely didn’t want discuss the day’s events at the moment. None of the abilities she had discovered today felt real, and as kind as Agent Bryant had been to her, she didn’t feel a connection with him that would make her comfortable talking about her feelings.  
Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the man she had seen in the office this morning. Somehow she didn’t think that would be a problem with him, and she shivered again at the memory of how intensely he had stared at her. _Who was he?_ she wondered again, but before she could bring it up, they reached the car.

She would ask him on the ride home, Taylor decided as Cole opened her car door for her.

xxx

The man’s hands were steady as he peered through the scope of the sniper rifle in his hands into the parking garage across the street, watching as the man and woman approached the car he had been surveilling for the better part of an hour.

He'd already been given the green light to take the shot, and he lined it up as the man opened the car door for the woman, taking a deep breath before placing his finger on the trigger and pulling it in one smooth motion.

He didn’t bother to look back through the scope to ensure the bullet had hit its target; he never missed.

Even before his victim hit the ground, he was calmly packing up his rifle. Once that was done, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a return text to the man who had messaged him earlier.

_Mission accomplished._

He strolled calmly out of the building well before the police arrived and disappeared into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Taylor saw Agent Bryant begin to fall before the sound of the gunshot registered. She lunged forward, heedless of the danger to herself, and helped to cushion his fall as his body crumpled to the pavement. Blood was pouring from a hole in his left shoulder and she hastily yanked off her jacket and applied pressure to the wound, taking care to stay low in case the shooter fired on them again as she glanced desperately around for help.

There was not a soul in sight, and Taylor turned her attention back to the wounded man before her. “Bryant!” she said urgently as his eyes fluttered closed. “Stay with me, Bryant.” She hesitated only a moment before fumbling through his pockets for his cell phone, wanting to get him help, but needing him to wake up to tell her the code to unlock it, what number to call. The feeling of helplessness she had been battling all day was now magnified tenfold.

“Wake up!” she pleaded as she slapped Bryant’s cheek lightly. “Please . . . please wake up.” After several more tries, she was rewarded with a low groan, and she kept her eyes trained on his face as his eyelids began to flicker. “That’s it. Come on.”

Cole felt like someone was stabbing him in the shoulder with a hot poker. He could hear a woman speaking to him as if from very far away and he tried to focus on that as he came back to consciousness, opening his eyes to find Taylor’s worried face mere inches from his. “What . . . happened?”

“You’ve been shot,” Taylor told him. “I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital, but you’re losing a lot of blood. We need to get you help. Who should I call?”

“No one . . . at the moment.” Cole sucked in a deep breath as he sat up. “We’re already in a hospital and only about fifty feet from the elevator. I think I can make it that far if you’ll help me.”

“You won’t make it five feet if the shooter tries again,” Taylor pointed out, but Bryant was already struggling to his feet, and she was forced to help support his weight in order to keep him from falling again and injuring himself worse.

“If he wanted to shoot me again, he’d already have done so,” Cole replied, starting for the elevator with grim determination. He could feel himself getting lightheaded and struggled to focus. “You’re going to need to contact Mayfair and let her know what happened so she can send someone to pick you up.” She would also need to get CSU down here to process the crime scene. “Her number’s programmed into my phone.” He gave her the code to unlock it.

“And here—” he unbuckled his belt with his good hand and removed his sidearm in its holster, handing it to her, “you should probably be armed until they arrive.” He’d seen firsthand her skill with the weapon, and he couldn’t take it with him into surgery anyway. His gut told him that the shooter had hit exactly what he was aiming at, that she hadn’t been the target, but there was no sense in taking chances.

Taylor accepted it without comment, fastening it onto her own belt once they were in the elevator and Bryant was able to lean against the wall for support. She finished that task just as the elevator doors slid open on the floor they had just left, and she hailed a nurse that was just passing by as they stepped out of the elevator.

Within seconds, Bryant was surrounded by a whole host of medical personnel, who placed him on a gurney and wheeled him away to a treatment room. Satisfied that he was in good hands, Taylor found a quiet spot in a nearby waiting room and fished Bryant’s phone out of her pocket to call Mayfair.

  
xxx

She had been staring at the same piece of paper for the last half hour, but Bethany Mayfair couldn’t bring herself to call it a night. She should go home, she knew. Leave the stress of work behind for a few hours, take her dog for a walk before it got dark, and then relax on the couch with a good glass of wine. Unfortunately, the reason she couldn’t do any of that was sitting on the edge of her desk, taunting her.

The brown file folder bore the same number that she had noticed tattooed on Taylor Shaw’s body, but she didn’t need to open it to read what it contained; she knew its contents by heart. That number represented one of the worst decisions of her life, and was the cause of more restless nights than restful ones.

The fact that someone else out there understood its significance did not bode well for her or this investigation.

She sighed as the potential implications of this began to sink in. She’d fought so hard to earn this job, had tried to use her position to atone for her sins, but now she had to wonder if all that effort would prove to have been in vain. If all the criminals she had put away would have to be retried or released.

Her phone chimed and she jumped as the sound shattered the stillness of her office, the weightiness of her thoughts. It was her personal cell phone rather than her work number, and she frowned as she took in the message displayed on the screen.

_Last chance, Director Mayfair. Put Agent Weller on the Taylor Shaw investigation, or your next agent won’t be so lucky._

The number was unfamiliar, probably a burner phone, she reasoned in a distant corner of her brain, even as she grabbed her work phone to contact Agent Bryant.

As if on cue, his number lit up her screen, and she blew out a relieved breath as she answered. “Bryant. Thank god.”

“It’s not Agent Bryant,” Taylor told her. “This is . . .” She hesitated before uttering the still unfamiliar name. “This is Taylor Shaw. Agent Bryant’s been shot.”

Mayfair closed her eyes as Taylor’s words confirmed her worst fears. “What happened? Where are you? How is Bryant? Are you still under fire?” she demanded.

“No, ma’am,” Taylor told her. “We’re still at the hospital. We were in the parking garage just getting ready to leave when Agent Bryant got shot. He was hit in the shoulder, but he was able to walk to the ER with my help, and he’s being treated now.”

“Hold on a minute.” Mayfair set her cell phone down on the desk and reached for the landline on her desk to dispatch her people to their location. “Taylor? Agents are on their way to you now. Are you somewhere safe?”

“I’m in the waiting room and there’s a security guard here,” Taylor assured her. “And I’m armed.”

There was a pause. “You’re _what?”_

“Agent Bryant gave me his gun in case I needed to defend myself,” Taylor clarified.

Oh, that was just great. They now had a civilian with a sketchy past running around with an FBI agent’s loaded weapon. If she discharged that firearm in a crowded waiting room, even if it was legitimately in self-defense, the potential for a lawsuit was enormous. Bryant had undoubtedly been concerned that Taylor was the shooter’s real target, but he’d been shot in the shoulder, not the head. He should have surrendered his weapon to that security guard she’d mentioned, and let him keep watch over her. “Okay, sit tight. Those agents should be there momentarily. Oh, and Miss Shaw?”

“Yes?” Taylor asked cautiously.

“Try to refrain from shooting anyone until they get there,” Mayfair advised and hung up before Taylor could even begin to formulate a reply. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

Whoever had sent this text message wasn’t kidding around, she realized as she read through it a second time. They had already shown their willingness to use deadly force against a federal agent, without any provocation or warning whatsoever, and they had further upped the ante by sending their threat to her personal cell phone. They were making it clear that they knew everything about everyone in this office and could get to any of them any time she chose.  
As much as she hated to admit it, at the moment it appeared they had her over a barrel.

She sighed again as she picked up the phone to call Weller.

xxx

Kurt was enjoying his first early night off in weeks. He had arrived home before Sarah, so dinner was actually edible for once, and after cleaning up, the three of them had settled back in at the dining room table for a very competitive evening of board games. Sawyer was currently trouncing them both, but Kurt was determined to beat him in the next round.  
He was just setting up the board when his phone rang, and he groaned as he saw Mayfair’s name on the display.

“Kurt,” Sarah pleaded softly. They'd been having such a good time tonight. “Can’t you ignore it? Just this once?”

“You know I can’t do that, sis.” Kurt’s tone was apologetic, and he leaned over and kissed her cheek as he answered the phone. “Mayfair.”

“Weller.” Mayfair was equally brusque. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I need you back in the office immediately.”

Kurt would have liked to ask what was going on, but something in her voice warned him she wouldn’t be forthcoming with those answers over the phone. “I’m on my way. Sawyer—” he hugged his nephew as he ended the call, “—you owe me a rematch, buddy.” He grabbed his suit jacket and was gone before Sarah could give him her customary reminder to be careful.

Traffic was still fairly heavy, and it took Kurt an extra fifteen minutes to reach his destination. He entered Mayfair’s office to find her seated at the round table waiting for him, her expression somber. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Taylor?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Mayfair motioned for him to take a seat. “Bryant was shot in the hospital parking garage about an hour ago as they were leaving. He's in surgery,” she added hastily at Kurt’s alarmed look. “The bullet hit him in the shoulder. He’s lost a lot of blood, but his wife tells me his doctors are optimistic that he’ll make it. She’s going to update me once he’s out of surgery.”

“And Taylor? Is she—”

“She’s fine,” Mayfair told him. “Her protective detail brought her back here about twenty minutes ago. It appears Bryant is going to owe her his life for a second time today. His wife told me the doctors were very impressed with her quick handling of the situation. It appears she might have had some medical training, after all.”

“Was she the shooter’s intended target?” Kurt asked hoarsely. Had he been playing games while Taylor was in some madman’s crosshairs? If he had stayed a little longer today, worked a little harder, could he have prevented this attack?”

“No,” Mayfair said sharply, recognizing the turn his thoughts had taken. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Kurt. There was nothing you could have done.” She slid a copy of the text message she had received across the table to him. “Whoever did this acted with a very specific purpose in mind. They want you leading this investigation.”

Kurt’s mouth tightened as he skimmed the message. “I’m in.”

“Not so fast,” Mayfair cautioned. She would like nothing more than to close the book on this investigation here and now, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that one of Taylor’s tattoos had saved hundreds of lives today. She had too many sins on her conscience already to risk countless others. “If I agree to let you do this, there will be conditions.”

Well, hell, of course there would. Kurt met Mayfair’s gaze without blinking. “Name them.”

“First and foremost, you’ll meet with Dr. Borden at least twice a week to ensure that the past doesn’t affect your current performance, oftener if he—or you—feels it’s necessary. I don’t need another one of my agents getting shot because your head isn’t on straight. The details of those sessions will be confidential, of course, but Dr. Borden will report to me if he feels you’re holding back on him or too emotionally compromised to do the job any longer. Or if you try to start skipping out on sessions because you’re too busy with the case. Fair enough?”

Kurt gave a reluctant nod. He’d expected that one, but he didn’t have to like it. He would like it even less if one of the agents under his command got shot because of him. He was well aware that they were in uncharted waters here. “What else?”

“We continue to keep the news of your marriage to Taylor just between the two of us and Dr. Borden,” Mayfair told him, not really expecting any opposition on that front, but feeling it needed to be restated anyway. Kurt nodded again. “And lastly . . .”

She hesitated, and he leaned forward slightly as he awaited her final condition. “Lastly, if I decide at any point to shut this investigation down, you will accept my decision without a word of protest.” Giving in to this unsub’s demand to put Weller on the case felt akin to negotiating with terrorists, but she couldn’t see any other way forward at this point. It was clear that she would be signing the death warrant of any other agent she tried to appoint.

She just hoped that she wasn’t signing Weller’s by giving in.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Kurt said after a long moment in which he weighed his options and realized he had no choice but to agree. “We have a deal.”

“Good,” Mayfair said briskly as she stood. “In that case, I think it’s time the two of you meet. I had her detail put her back down in the interrogation room, so why don’t you go introduce yourself? I’d like to observe your interaction on the monitors, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” Kurt agreed, once again knowing there was no other answer he could give. Not only was she his boss, but she was going out on a huge limb for him here. She was the one who would be called before the brass to answer for her decision if things went bad.

They walked together until the hallways to their respective destinations diverged. “Good luck,” Mayfair told him as they parted.

Kurt nodded, and took a deep breath as he rounded a corner and the interrogation room came into view.

xxx

Time seemed to stand still in the sterile white interrogation room; Taylor had no idea how long it had been since one of the agents on her security detail had deposited her here, but she grew more anxious with every minute that passed. Had she been the shooter’s target? Was that why they had brought her back here rather than to her safe house? And how was Agent Bryant? She’d asked repeatedly, but her detail had been either unable or unwilling to give her any information on his condition.

She leaned forward, shoulders hunched, and studied her still unfamiliar reflection in the shiny surface of the tabletop. It was terrifying to look at your own image, and see only the face of a stranger looking back at you. The last time she'd been in here, she’d begged Agent Bryant to tell her who she was—and he had—but hearing the name Taylor Shaw hadn’t made her feel more connected to herself. It hadn’t evoked one single memory of her past.

If anything, it had only left her feeling more alone.

She glanced up as she heard the door begin to slide open again, and found herself looking into the coolly assessing blue eyes of the stubbled man she had seen this morning. He was looking at her with what—hope? anticipation? —in his eyes, but when his look found no answer in hers, he finally stepped toward her.

In all of his imaginings of this moment, he had failed to take into account how difficult it would be to see the lack of recollection in the green eyes that had once sparkled with joy at the mere sight of him. Kurt held her gaze as he approached, willing her to display some sign of recognition, however small, but the blankness remained. “I’m Special Agent Kurt Weller,” he introduced himself. “I’m the new lead agent on your case.”

So she had been right. He was her childhood friend, the man who had identified her. When Agent Bryant had first told her about him, she had wanted to meet him immediately, had had a million questions that she wanted to throw at him, but now that he was standing in front of her, she couldn’t recall a single one. She latched on to the only thing that mattered. If he was the new lead agent on her case, then . . . “What happened to Agent Bryant?” she demanded. “Is he . . .”

“He’s in surgery,” Kurt told her. “As far as I know right now, he’s going to be just fi—he’s going to pull through,” he amended, not wanting to give her false hope. It was unlikely Bryant would be returning to the office any time soon, if at all. “But I’ll be staying on your case no matter what.”

She nodded absently. The news was a relief, though she felt guilty for feeling that way. Agent Bryant had been very nice to her, and more than likely was lying in a hospital bed now because of her, but she just hadn’t connected with him in a meaningful way. She could feel Agent Weller’s eyes on her as the silence grew between them, and she wracked her brain for something to say. “Did anyone tell you I recovered my first memory today?” she asked as he took the seat next to her.

Kurt stilled. “No. No one mentioned that. Do you . . . do you recognize me?” Her reaction when he’d entered certainly hadn’t suggested that she did, but he couldn’t help but hope. Maybe that memory had been of his younger self, and she hadn’t realized it was him.

Taylor shook her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I wish I did. I still barely recognize me,” she offered with a bleak laugh.

“I know this must be overwhelming,” Kurt told her, “but now that you’ve recovered one memory, you may be able to recall more. Please . . . try.”

How did he expect her to do that? His face was apparently well-known to her, and it hadn’t triggered any memories. Nor had the sound of his voice. Maybe touch would work better? She slowly reached out with her left hand to cover his, her right coming up to cup his jaw. For a moment, she thought he was going to grab her hand to stop her as she reached toward his face, but he apparently thought better of it and allowed her to proceed.

Kurt fought the urge to close his eyes as her fingers ghosted over his skin, the familiar touch inciting a firestorm of memories. The two of them had never lacked chemistry and judging by the electricity generated by her gentle caress, it was as strong as ever. Damn it. Damn her. She withdrew her hand from his face, and when she made as if to try again, he grabbed it, unable to bear her touch a second time. “Anything?” he asked her hoarsely.

She shook her head slowly, her brilliant green eyes wide and vulnerable. Whenever she’d worn that expression in the past, he’d always swept her up in his arms and assured her that everything would be all right, and even now, even after everything she’d done, it was all he could do to keep from doing so again. He’d never been so thankful to know his boss was watching.

“No,” she whispered as she sat back, finally pulling her hand back from his. How could she remember something as random as shooting a gun, but not the man she had spent much of her life around? She took a deep breath and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “So . . . what happens now?”

Kurt rose, anxious to have this reunion, this day, behind him. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight, and you’ve had a long day. I’ll drive you back to your safe house and we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

She didn’t utter a single question as he led the way to his vehicle and was similarly quiet on the drive home. He might have chalked her silence up to exhaustion, but the gnawing on her thumbnail was a dead giveaway that something was troubling her. “What’s wrong, Taylor?” he asked as he followed her into the safe house, appreciating that her detail was outside but wanting to see for himself that everything was secure.

She flinched. “Could you not call me that?”

“Call you what?” Kurt was confused. “Taylor? It’s your name.”

“I know. It’s just . . . I saw the way you were looking at me back at the FBI,” she burst out finally. “Like you’re just waiting for me to transform into this person you knew, this person you lost, but I don’t know how to _be_ her. It doesn’t feel real to me. _None of this_ feels real.” She paused for breath. “How did I learn how to do all these things, Kurt?” she asked more quietly. “The Chinese, the fighting? Could I do any of that when you knew me?”

Kurt blinked, startled that she had addressed him by name. “No. No, you spoke several languages, but Chinese wasn’t one of them. You did take martial arts classes at our local dojo, but from what I’ve heard, your skills go well beyond what you picked up there. Look, Tay—Look,” he amended. “You’ve been through so much already, the last thing I want to do is make things harder for you.” He hesitated. “If you don’t want to be Taylor, what would you like us to call you?”

She paused to consider. “In the hospital, my wristband said Jane Doe. Can I go by that? Just until I start to remember,” she added hastily.

Kurt bit back the instinctual _no_ that sprang to his lips. She was the victim here, and while her request was certainly unorthodox, it wasn’t unreasonable. He sighed, recognizing he had no justifiable reason to deny it. “All right.”

Jane could see how much it had cost him to make that concession, and she smiled tremulously. “Thank you.”

Kurt’s eyes drifted to the bandage on Tay—Jane’s arm, he corrected himself, suddenly remembering that she had been shot today. “How are you feeling, Jane?”

“Physically, I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but they said that my arm’s going to be fine. Emotionally, I . . . I, uh . . . I don’t know.”

“Jane.” Kurt shifted uneasily as the conversation started to veer into territory he wasn’t prepared to handle. “You’re going to be okay.”

Her eyes flooded with tears as she looked up at him. “I don’t know what that feels like.”

Kurt hesitated for only a moment before drawing her into his embrace, clenching his jaw at how right, how natural, it felt to have her in his arms again. He was glad Mayfair wasn’t here to see this. Or Sarah.

“Did I ever?” Jane asked when she drew back.

“Did you ever what?”

“Did I ever know what it feels like to be okay?” she clarified.

_“I’m okay, Kurt,” Taylor told him as she looked up into his worried face. They were standing next to Emma Shaw’s gravesite on the second anniversary of her death. He’d been dreading this day for weeks, knowing how much she still missed her mother, how long it would be before they could visit again, and he was relieved to see that even though her eyes were damp, the light in them was undimmed. “I never thought I’d say this again, but I really am okay, and that’s due in large part to you. I’m really glad you’re coming to California with me.”_

_He would go to the moon and back with her if she needed him to. Kurt smiled down at her, careful not to allow his eyes to reflect more than brotherly affection. Taylor had no idea how he really felt about her, and he didn’t intend to ever burden her with that knowledge. Not only would it be a violation of his promise to Emma Shaw, but it could very well make things so awkward between them that he would lose even the friendship he so valued. “My pleasure, Taylor. You know I’ll always be there anytime you need me, right? It’s my duty as your almost big brother.”_

_He could have sworn he saw frustration flicker in Taylor’s eyes, but the expression was gone before he could define it, and she was grinning impishly up at him once more. “In that case, how about holding my hand while I get this tattoo I’ve been thinking about for a while? Kurt? Kurt!”_

“Kurt?”

Jane’s voice brought him back to the present, and he sucked in a breath as he stared down at her. “Yes,” he said gruffly, realizing she was still waiting for an answer. “Yes, you knew how it felt to be okay, Jane. And you will again.”

“You promise?” Jane asked softly.

_“You promise you won’t let go of my hand?” Taylor asked anxiously as they walked into the local tattoo parlor._

_He would hold her hand forever if she would let him. “I promise, Taylor.”_

"I promise, Jane. I promise.”


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

When Mayfair had said he had to meet with Dr. Borden twice a week, Kurt hadn’t realized that she meant that he had to sit down with the man before he could even get to work on the case. He’d arrived at the office at the crack of dawn to get an early start, but his boss had clearly anticipated that and left a note on his desk directing him to have a session with the doctor first. He decided to get right down to business. “Morning, Doc,” he greeted as he dropped into the chair across from Borden. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Good morning, Agent Weller,” Dr. Borden said evenly, equal parts amused and annoyed at his clear reluctance to be here. Why was it that men like him always seemed to feel that talking about their feelings was a threat to their masculinity? “I feel like I should be the one asking you that question. I understand you met with Taylor last night. How did that go?”

“She didn’t recognize me, if that’s what you’re asking. And she wants to continue to be called Jane, rather than Taylor,” Kurt admitted, still struggling with the notion. Jane Doe was a designation for an unidentified woman in a morgue, not a title for a living, vibrant woman. Not a name for his childhood friend.

“That bothers you,” Borden observed. “Why?”

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “She has an identity; she’s Taylor Shaw. She has a hometown, and a past, and people who love—loved her. She’s not a Jane Doe.”

“Actually . . .” Borden drew out the word; “in her mind, that’s exactly what she is. _Telling_ her that she’s Taylor Shaw isn’t instantly going to make her feel connected to that identity, Agent Weller. She doesn’t remember that past; she doesn’t know you; she doesn’t even know herself. The best thing you can do at this point is to support her decision and help her get to know the person she was. I have a feeling you may be pleasantly surprised at how quickly she comes around.”

Kurt nodded slowly. What Borden was saying made sense. He might not agree with Taylor’s— _Jane’s_ —decision, but she _was_ the victim here, and he needed to allow her to find her own way as much as possible. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for.” Borden hesitated. “I was wondering if you would mind sharing with me some of your memories of Taylor as well. Since I’m going to be seeing T—Jane, it might be helpful to have some of those blanks filled in. I’ll understand if it’s too painful for you—”

“What do you want to know, Doc?” Kurt interrupted.

Borden thought about it. “Why don’t you start at the beginning of your relationship? Tell me how you went from being friends and neighbors and almost-siblings to dating one another and falling in love.” In addition to providing him with necessary information to help Jane navigate any memories that returned, he thought it would also be cathartic for Agent Weller to talk about their history.

“Actually, Doc, in our case, that’s kind of the middle of the story,” Kurt corrected with a wry laugh. “We didn’t exactly do things like a typical couple.” The understatement of the century, if ever there was one.

“Well, now I’m intrigued.” Borden leaned forward. “Start where you see fit, but please don’t keep me in suspense, Agent Weller.”

Kurt nodded as he cast his mind back to the day nearly fifteen years ago when their journey had begun . . .

xxx

_Clearfield, Pennsylvania_

_January 2001_

He’d left New York City in the wee hours of the morning in order to get here before anybody else was around, but it appeared that one early bird had beaten him to the punch. Kurt kept his eyes on that solitary figure in the distance as he navigated the rows of graves in the quiet cemetery, surprised to realize as he drew closer that it was his mother’s headstone the black-hooded individual was curled up beside.

Recognition dawned as he approached. “Taylor?”

Taylor started at the sound of Kurt’s voice, but she didn’t look up, her fingers continuing to trace the script on the headstone. She’d known he would come here today—it was the anniversary of his mother’s death, after all, and he never missed that—but she’d thought she would have more time before he arrived. She’d thought that this was the one place she could be alone to grieve all that she had lost and was about to lose. “Hey, Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at Taylor’s muted tone. He was accustomed to her flinging herself into his arms the moment she first saw him on one of his visits home, but today it almost sounded as if she were fighting back tears. He knelt down in front of her, pushing her hood back from her face, his suspicions confirmed by the tear tracks on her cheeks. He gently cupped her jaw, swiping at her tears with his thumbs. “Why so sad, brat?”

She smiled halfheartedly at his affectionate nickname for her. “I just miss her is all,” she said, knowing he would misunderstand which ‘her’ she was referring to. She missed his mom, of course—Patricia had been like a second mother to her—but it was her own mom she was watching disappear a little more every day. She’d known long before her mother told her that cancer was winning the war the two of them were waging. What she hadn’t realized was what that would mean for her.

Kurt put his arm around Taylor’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Me too. It’s hard to believe she’s been gone three years now.” The two of them sat in companionable silence for some time, each lost in their own memories, before he spoke again. “She loved you like a daughter, you know. She was so proud of you, and she wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

Taylor smiled through her tears, knowing it was his own mom of whom he was speaking, but his words could just as easily be applied to hers. “Yeah . . . I know.” She reluctantly drew back, knowing she was one kind word away from losing it completely and not wanting to add to his burden on this of all days. “I, uh . . . I should probably get going, let you have some time alone.” She got to her feet. “It was good to see you again, Kurt.” His visits, which had always been less often than she would have liked, had become an increasingly rare occurrence since Sarah graduated from high school, his phone calls more and more infrequent as well.

He was moving on with his life, on from her, and though she was happy for him, happy that the future he had dreamed of for so long was finally in reach for him, it was just one more loss she would have to bear. She doubted she would ever see him again once he left this time, and that knowledge made this meeting all the more bittersweet.

Kurt grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “Before you go . . . tell me what’s really bothering you, Taylor. _Please_.”

Her automatic refusal died on her lips at the pleading in his voice. She should have known she couldn’t pull one over on Kurt, but he had been away so long she had forgotten just how good he was at reading her. “What gave me away?” she asked as she sat back down.

“You mean besides the fact that you’re sitting in a deserted cemetery at this hour in the freezing cold, crying your eyes out beside my mom’s grave, even though she’s been dead for three years?” Kurt slung his arm back across Taylor’s shoulders. “Out with it, brat. What’s wrong?”

“Mom’s dying, Kurt,” Taylor whispered, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up in her eyes. “She told me last week that her cancer’s come back, and it’s . . . it’s metastasized to her bones and liver. Her doctor thinks she has three months left at best.”

“Oh, Taylor.” Kurt gathered her close, holding her tightly as she lost the battle with her tears and sobs wracked her body. He knew firsthand the awful void losing a parent put in one’s life; in every way that counted, he had lost both of his on the night a drunk driver slammed into his mother’s car, but at least his dad had still been physically present. Taylor was going to be an orphan.

He rubbed her back gently as that realization sank in. Taylor was still a minor, with no blood relations that he knew of, so unless someone stepped in to take her, she would become a ward of the state. He held her until she stopped trembling and then eased back enough to see her face. “What about you? Has your mom found you somewhere to go yet?” He knew Emma would move heaven and earth to find a loving home for her daughter. Taylor was the most precious thing in the world to her.

Taylor took a ragged breath. “No. She’s still trying, but she told me last night that . . . that everyone we’ve been able to think of so far who might take me either doesn’t have room or . . . or has too much going on in their lives to handle the extra responsibility. Barring a miracle, at this point it looks like I’m going to end up in foster care. I just hope they can find a home for me here in Clearfield, so I can finish high school with my friends.”

Kurt felt like he’d been punched in the gut. How could none of her friend’s parents be willing to take in a girl as special as Taylor? She’d never given her mom an ounce of anxiety her whole life. What if she wound up in a bad foster home, the kind you saw on the news after the kids in their care were traumatized or dead? “Not going to happen,” he said with conviction. “You’re practically my sister. I’ll drop out of college and come home to take care of you myself before I’ll let you go to strangers.”

Taylor smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought and I really appreciate the offer, but I can’t let you do that. You have your own future to consider. You’ve wanted to be an FBI agent for as far back as I can remember. Besides, you’re not a licensed foster parent, so you couldn’t get custody of me anyway. Now if you were _actually_ my brother, you might have a shot.” At least now she knew he cared enough to perhaps stay in touch after all.

Kurt nodded soberly. “So I need to convince my dad to adopt you, then.”

“Kurt . . .”

“I know, Taylor,” he said quietly. It was the ultimate irony that the drunk who had taken his mother from them had turned his father into one. No judge in his right mind would ever let Bill Weller take custody of Taylor. “We’ll figure something out. Remember what Mom used to say? For every problem, there is a solution. We just haven’t found this one’s yet.”

Taylor closed her eyes, fighting the hope his words evoked in her. Kurt saw her struggling with doubt and tickled her lightly. “What’s this, brat? Have I been away so long you don’t have any faith in me anymore? Have I ever let you down before?”

“Never,” Taylor said solemnly. “But—”

“No buts, Taylor. We _will_ figure this out. Now come on,” he added in a determinedly lighter tone, getting to his feet and pulling her up beside him, “I’ll drive you home, and we’ll sit down with your mom and brainstorm, okay?"

“Don’t you . . . don’t you want to visit with your mom for a while?” Taylor asked. “I can walk myself home. And Sarah’s probably waiting to see you as well.” Knowing Kurt, he had driven straight here before stopping to see his family.

“No need. Sarah will understand, and we’ll come back later.” With his father, if they could sober him up enough to walk a straight line. If his mother were here right now, she would be the first to insist he go help the living rather than mourning the dead. Of course, if she were here, this would have been a non-issue anyway. He started toward his car.

Taylor fell into step beside him. “This would all be so much easier if Pennsylvania gave kids the right to be emancipated. That way I wouldn’t have to go live with strangers. It’s not like I don’t know how to take care of myself.”

The last thing Taylor would need after losing her mother was to be alone in the house they had shared, but Kurt kept that opinion to himself. “Well, since they’re not going to change the law just for you, we’ll just have to keep thinking on it. Even if that were an option, you’re not even old enough to get your learner’s permit yet, Taylor. You couldn’t walk everywhere you needed to go, even in a town this small.”

“I’m going to be sixteen in three weeks,” Taylor reminded him. “I’ll be able to get my learner’s permit then and have my junior driver’s license in six months if I get enough practice. Which means—” she gave a little skip as they approached his car, “—the next time you come back to visit, I’ll be able to drive _you_ around.”

Kurt grinned down at her, relieved her mood had lightened. He started to ask her if anyone had warned the residents of Clearfield, but thought better of it. “In that case, I’ll make a point to come back in a month, and we can go for a drive.”

He always knew exactly the right thing to say. “Thanks, Kurt,” Taylor said gratefully as she climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

“I’m sorry, Taylor,” Kurt said quietly as he got behind the wheel and started the car. She threw him a questioning glance. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after Mom died, that I didn’t visit as often as I should have. I haven’t been a very good friend to you, and you deserved better.”

“I get it, Kurt,” Taylor said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Some days I walk into the house when Mom’s having one of her bad spells, and it’s so quiet it feels like a tomb. It’s like her disease has sucked all the laughter and warmth out of the place that used to be home, leaving only a shell behind. I know it’ll be a thousand times worse when she’s gone, so I understand why you needed to stay away.”

He glanced over at her, simultaneously struck by the maturity of her insights and saddened that a fifteen-year-old could empathize so well with him. “I still should have kept in touch, Taylor. I’ll do better from now on; I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Taylor murmured to herself once his attention was back on the road. Clearly, Kurt Weller could benefit from her support as much as she was going to need his.

She wouldn’t let him vanish from her life so easily again.

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

Dr. Borden was leaning forward on the edge of his seat when Kurt paused in his recitation to take a sip of coffee, but before he could continue, the door slid open, and Zapata appeared.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Mayfair needs you in the conference room. She’s assigning Bryant’s team to another case, and she wants them to update us on their progress on the Taylor Shaw investigation first.”

“On my way,” Kurt replied, getting to his feet, and she nodded as she exited as quickly as she’d come. “So, I’ll see you the first of next week, Doc?”

“Try tomorrow,” Borden corrected. “Mayfair wants us to meet twice a week, and we’ve only had one session so far this week. Same time, same place tomorrow morning?”

“Fine,” Kurt conceded reluctantly, “but you’re not fooling me, Doc. That session is more for you than me. I saw your face as I was telling my story, and I know you just want me back in here to find out what happens next.”

Borden held up his hands. “Guilty as charged. You’re a surprisingly good storyteller, Agent Weller. Most people just share their point of view, but you made me feel like I was right there with both of you.”

“Yeah, Taylor and I, we, uh . . .” Kurt massaged the back of his neck as he struggled to put the past back where it belonged. How much of himself had he just unwittingly revealed to the man? “We talked a lot about that day over the years, so I pretty well knew what she was thinking and feeling at the time. "I’m . . . I’ d better get going before Mayfair sends out a search party. I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc.” He fled out the door and didn’t slow his steps until he reached the conference room.

Everyone was already seated around the table waiting for him when he entered. “Okay, let’s get started,” Mayfair said briskly as soon as he was seated. “I know you’re all aware of most of what happened yesterday, but I didn’t have a chance to debrief with Agent Bryant’s team due to him being shot, so I’m going to ask Agents Martinez and Foster to start by giving a brief recap of the day’s events.”

“How is Agent Bryant?” Reade asked before they could begin.

“He came through surgery well, but there was extensive damage to his shoulder, and he’s got a long road to recovery ahead of him. It’s uncertain at this point if he’ll regain enough mobility to be an active duty agent,” Mayfair told them.

That news hit them all hard. They each glanced at one another somberly before Mayfair nodded to Martinez and Foster to continue. The two of them took turns filling in the blanks for Weller and his team, ending with Taylor’s recovery of her first memory.

“Jane,” Weller corrected automatically.

All eyes turned to him. “I beg your pardon?” Mayfair asked.

“She wants to continue to be called Jane Doe, at least until she regains some memories of being Taylor Shaw,” Weller explained.

“I see.” Mayfair was silent for a moment, considering, but she could see no harm in it. “Jane Doe it is. What did she remember?”

“Running an outdoor shooting course,” Foster said.

That news stunned Kurt. Once she’d said she didn’t recognize him, he hadn’t thought to ask Jane what she’d remembered. He’d taught Taylor how to handle a firearm in case she ever needed to defend herself against an intruder, but she had never particularly liked using them. Never would he have thought she would voluntarily do so.

“Who _is_ this woman?” Mayfair wondered aloud, but no one answered her. The question was clearly rhetorical.

The meeting broke up a few minutes later, Agents Martinez and Foster filing out first, followed by Reade and Zapata, but when Kurt rose to leave as well, she stopped him. “Weller, a word.” He sat back down next to her, and she studied him in silence for a long moment. He’d seemed rather on edge when he came into the room after his session with Borden. “You’re sure you want to do this? Say the word, and I’ll shut this investigation down right now.” They could still look into what had happened to Taylor Shaw without following the tattoos.

“I want to do this.” Kurt’s voice didn’t sound convincing, even to himself, and he cleared his throat. “I want to do this,” he repeated much more firmly.

Mayfair nodded slowly. “All right then. I’ll let you get to it. I'm about to go meet with Patterson to discuss a database she’s designing to help decode these tattoos, so she may have a lead for you later, and the hospital promised to call as soon as Chao is able to be questioned.”

“Is Jane here?” Kurt asked. He had a feeling she was going to be just as intractable about going out into the field with them today as she had been with Bryant, and he wanted to see her famed fighting skills for himself before he made a decision on that.

“She was scheduled to meet with Borden after your session,” Mayfair told him. She glanced at her watch. “They should be finishing up any time if you want to go meet her. Just let Reade or Zapata know where you’re going to be in case we catch a break.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kurt replied as he exited the conference room and went in search of Jane.

Jane smiled shyly when she exited Borden’s office and saw him leaning against the wall waiting for her. “Morning, Kurt.”

“Morning,” he returned as he motioned for her to follow him to the gun range, where he had set out an array of weapons to test her skills before coming to collect her.

“I want to apologize for upsetting you yesterday,” Jane said as they walked, and he glanced at her questioningly. “I could see it bothered you that I don’t want to go by Taylor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about her. I have so many questions about Taylor, but I’m just not ready to _be_ her yet.”

Kurt stopped and turned to face her. “You don’t need to apologize, Jane; I understand,” he told her, and since talking to Borden, he truly did. Looked like it was going to be a day for talking about their past whether he wanted to or not. “What would you like to know?”

“Agent Bryant told me my mom passed away, but I’d love to know what she was like. Are there people who have been looking for me? Do I have a father, or sisters or brothers?” She would gladly embrace being Taylor Shaw if it meant she had people who loved her, a place of her own to call home.

“Emma was a great mom,” Kurt told her. “She worked very hard to give you everything. You were her whole world; I’ve never seen a mother and daughter closer than the two of you. I don’t know anything about your father; he was never in the picture, and she never identified him. You didn’t have sisters or brothers, but you spent a lot of time with me and my sister; you were basically part of our family.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah.” Kurt’s brow furrowed at the surprise in Taylor’s voice. He’d assumed Bryant had mentioned that to her. “Sarah. She’s two years older than you, but the two of you were practically inseparable growing up.” When she hadn’t been tagging along with him, at least.

“Does she live nearby? Could I meet her sometime?” Jane’s hopeful look faded at the expression on Kurt’s face. She’d been wondering why they had lost touch, and she guessed now she had her answer. “Kurt? We didn’t part on good terms, did we?” she asked more quietly.

This was getting dangerously close to forbidden territory. “No,” Kurt replied brusquely after a long pause, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. “We didn’t.”

Jane kept her eyes locked on his as she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “For whatever it was I did that hurt you. And your sister.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “You assume you were the one at fault?”

His body language had practically screamed that she was. Jane would have loved to question him further, but that same body language warned her not to press the issue. He was the only link she had to her past; she didn’t want to restart their relationship by having him question the wisdom of renewing it. “You don’t strike me as the type to give up on a friend easily,” she offered as they resumed walking. On the other hand, she had no idea what type of person she was. Or had been.

Kurt’s mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile. “You’ve spent less than an hour in my company so far. A little early to make that call, isn’t it?”

“If you were, you wouldn’t be here now,” Jane pointed out, effectively ending the discussion, though their conversation—and the memory Kurt had subsequently helped her to recover—stayed in the back of her mind even as the day spun more and more out of control. What kind of person was she?

She finally posed that question to Kurt when the guilt became too much for her to bear. "I lied to you this morning,” she confessed as they toward the high-rise in search of Gibson.

Kurt glanced over at Jane. That wasn’t exactly news. Her deer-in-the-headlights look was reminiscent of all the times she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar as a five-year-old.

“At the shooting range, I did remember something,” she clarified when he didn’t say anything. She couldn’t reconcile the small-town girl she’d been told she was with the killer who cold-bloodedly shot a nun in the back of the head. _What had happened to her?_

“That’s good,” Kurt said, hoping desperately it wasn’t something about them as a couple. He’d already confronted enough of those memories for one day. “What was it?”

She looked down at her hands, unable to confess the whole truth to him. Unable to admit how far his one-time friend had fallen. “Something unforgiveable.” Tears welled in her eyes as she met Kurt’s gaze once more. “Was that why we lost touch? Because I was a terrible person before all this?”

“ _No!_ ” he said emphatically, wondering what on earth she could have done that she considered beyond redemption. “You made some bad decisions, but you weren’t a bad person. You still aren’t.”

“How do you know?” Jane asked. How could he sound so sure when by his own admission, their falling out was entirely her fault? She longed to ask him what she had done, but she instinctively knew she wouldn’t be getting a straight answer to that question.

“Your first instinct is to help people, Jane. The battered wife in Chinatown. Agent Bryant, after he was shot, and Reade, after the explosion today.” Her mom’s death had similarly ignited a desire to help others afflicted with cancer. “You don’t hesitate. You act. And you do the right thing.” If only she had done so for them. Or maybe she’d thought she had. “So I don’t know what it is you’re remembering, or what the context is, but I do think you’re a good person.” Deep down, he always had. He’d just been wrong about her being the right person for him.

Jane held his gaze for a beat longer before glancing back out the window. _Please, god,_ she pleaded silently as they sped onward to their destination, _please let Kurt be right about this._

_Please let me be a good person._

xxx

Sarah was waiting for him on the couch when he walked in, and the look on her face cued Kurt in that she had something to say that he wasn’t going to like. He poured himself a generous serving of scotch before taking the seat next to her. “What is it, sis?” He’d found in situations like this, it was best just to rip the Band-Aid right off. When his sister got an idea into her head, she wouldn’t rest until she’d had her say.

“Dad’s in town,” Sarah said softly. “He’d like to see you.”

Hell would freeze over first. Kurt took a healthy sip of scotch. “Not gonna happen.” He could forgive the man for the verbal abuse he’d unleashed on him, but the daily tirades Sarah had endured simply for loving him and doing her best to care for him? Never.

“He’s dying,” Sarah announced. “It’s lung cancer. He doesn’t have long.”

And here he’d thought the old bastard would drink himself to death. “Sarah—”

“Please just go see him,” she begged as her eyes teared up. “You can fix this before it’s too late.”

It had been too late the moment they lowered their mother into the ground. Or maybe their family had been broken even before that, and as a teenager, he’d just been too caught up in his own interests to notice. Kurt glanced away, shaking his head slightly.

“Why won’t you at least think about it?” Sarah demanded in exasperation at her brother’s tacit refusal. “Your wife left you for another man, but you’re willing to put that past aside and work with her. What is it our father did that you consider so much more unforgiveable than her adultery?”

“Let it go, Sarah,” Kurt said hoarsely. He wouldn’t shatter her faith in the man by revealing the worst of his misdeeds—not ever. The old bastard was getting off too easy, in his opinion, but he’d made a pact with the one other person his actions had directly affected, and he wouldn’t break that vow of silence now. No matter how undeserving it was.

Sarah would have liked to press the issue, but her brother’s clenched jaw warned her it would be ill-advised tonight. It had been foolish of her to broach this issue on his first day as lead agent on Taylor’s case. She would just have to hope a more opportune moment presented itself. “Okay. We’ll table this discussion. For now.”

A weary smile lit Kurt’s face at her doggedness, and she changed the subject. “Tell me about your day.”

xxx

It seemed like each day was destined to be more of an emotional rollercoaster ride than the last. Jane sighed as she entered the sparsely furnished safe house and flipped on a light. She was grateful to the FBI for providing her a place to stay, but she wondered how long it would take to feel like _home_. Or if it ever would. Maybe unless and until she recovered her memories, she would remain in a constant state of limbo, not really belonging here but not having anywhere else to go either. It wasn’t an encouraging thought.

She dropped her jacket on the table and headed for the refrigerator, knowing she should eat something after skipping lunch but finding the options it contained incredibly unappealing at the moment. She decided to take a shower and wash off the grime of the day before revisiting the issue.

She hummed softly to herself as she started the shower and walked back into her bedroom to shed her clothes. At least Kurt still had faith in her, despite the rocky past they apparently shared. His words about her instincts had encouraged her even more than Dr. Borden’s speech about choices. If he still believed in her after whatever she had put him through, how could she not believe in herself?

Her upbeat mood was short-lived, however, as someone grabbed her from behind and clamped their hand over her mouth. “Don’t make a sound,” the man said in her ear. “I’m going to take my hand away . . .”

Jane reacted instinctively as he spoke, slamming her elbow back into his midsection to get free and flipping him into a chair, shattering it into pieces. After a brief, intense struggle, in which she lost a tooth, she gained the upper hand, pinning him to the wall, her arm across his windpipe.

“I came here to help,” the bearded man gasped out.

“How did you get in here?” she growled through gritted teeth.

“We avoid detection,” he said, struggling to draw in a full breath of air. “It’s part of our training.”

Jane was hit with another flashback of her bandaging his arm. “I remember you.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “That’s impossible.”

“Who are you?” she demanded as she pressed harder on his windpipe.

_“Who are you?” she rasped as she turned her head slowly to catch a glimpse of the bearded stranger whose voice had been steadily lulling her from unconsciousness for the past hour. She did not consider it a favor. Her head ached so violently she thought she might be sick—in fact, her entire body felt that way. What had happened to her?_

_“Welcome back,” he told her, sidestepping her question about his identity. “How do you feel?”_

_Like she had been run over by a train, but she didn’t bother to tell him that. If he wasn’t going to respond to her question, she was under no obligation to answer his. She struggled to focus over the pounding in her head as she slowly glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She was clearly in some sort of makeshift hospital—though how she knew that, she had no idea—and was currently hooked up to several machines whose rhythmic beeps had aided the bearded man in his fiendish attempts to rouse her. “Where am I?”_

_As disconcerting as it was to wake up in a strange place with a strange man at her bedside, an even more disturbing thought quickly banished such trivial concerns. Panic filled her eyes as she met the bearded man’s warm gaze once more and uttered the most critical question of all._

_“Who am I?”_


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

The last thing Kurt wanted when he got to work the next morning was to sit down with Borden, but he knew better than to try to skip the session. He stalked over to the empty chair and took his seat, frustration pouring off him in waves. He should be out looking into the intruder at Jane’s safe house last night, not sitting here having a heart-to-heart about his feelings about it.

It didn’t help his mood that his first instinct had been to rush over there to see for himself that she was okay. Sleep had been a long time coming last night.

“Good morning, Agent Weller,” Borden greeted sympathetically. The man looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders this morning. “I heard about the incident at Jane’s safe house. How are you doing?”

Kurt shrugged. “Think you should be asking Jane that, Doc. I’m not the one who was attacked.”

“But you are the lead agent on her case, and she’s someone you lo—care deeply about,” Borden pointed out. “It would be natural to feel some sense of guilt for failing to prevent that attack.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed at the doctor’s slip of the tongue. “You think I’m still in love with Ja—Taylor?” he challenged.

That hadn’t been what he said at all. “Are you?” Borden countered mildly.

Kurt glared at him. “Of course not. I just . . . She confuses the hell out of me,” he confessed after a long moment.

“How so?” Borden asked.

“She’s still so . . . so Taylor.” Borden’s face registered his confusion, and Kurt struggled to find the words to explain himself better. “What I mean is, she’s exactly the Taylor I always felt she’d become.” She’d always been kind and compassionate, but there was a maturity to her now, a confidence and a deeper consideration of the effects her actions could have on others. Case in point: her defense of Reade yesterday when he argued her tattoos could be a trap.

“It’s funny, Doc; even in the moments when I was angriest at her, I never doubted that she was a good person. Misguided and impulsive, yes, but not _bad_. I even told her that yesterday. But . . . I don’t know, I guess a part of me expected her to be different somehow. More cynical, more jaded, more . . . more . . .”

“More femme fatale, and less girl-next-door?” Borden supplied.

Kurt blew out a breath. “Exactly.” Though he hated himself for admitting it, for entertaining that notion for even a moment. “I know it was awful of me to think that, but—”

“It’s not awful,” Borden corrected, leaning forward in his seat. “It’s human. And it’s entirely within the realm of possibility that she did turn out like that, and the amnesia erased that aspect of her personality. Or . . .” He locked eyes with Weller as he posed his next question. “Have you ever considered the possibility that she regretted her decision even before you received her letter, but saw no way to right the wrong she had done?”

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped she’d regretted it more than once. “Of course, Doc. But I tried not to let my thoughts go there. I didn’t want to wish Taylor ill, and imagining her with another man, whether she was happy or not . . .” He shrugged. “I decided the best thing for me was to put it all behind me and move on.” Though how well he had done that was debatable.

“I understand,” Borden said quietly. “I hope you know no one here would think less of you if you decided not to pursue this case. In fact, if you need me to, I’d be more than happy to take the blame by telling Director Mayfair that I think that’s what needs to happen.”

“What I need,” Kurt said deliberately, “are answers. And I’m not quitting until I get them.”

“I understand,” Borden said again. “The offer still stands if you need it. In the meantime . . .” he glanced at his watch, “we still have over half an hour left in our session. Would you mind—”

“Continuing my story?” Kurt finished with a slight laugh at the man’s eagerness. “Sure, Doc.” He paused for a moment to recall where he had left off. “We were both quiet on the ride to Taylor’s house . . .”

xxx

_Clearfield, Pennsylvania_

_January 2001_

The house was dark when they stepped inside and Taylor shrugged at the questioning glance Kurt threw her as she started toward the kitchen. “Mom wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so she may not be up yet, but if she is, she’ll be in here.”

That had always been Emma Shaw’s morning routine: coffee before anything else. It was comforting to know some things never changed.

“Hey, Mom,” Taylor greeted as she entered the kitchen, seeing her mom seated at the table with a steaming mug in front of her. “Look who’s here.”

“Kurt!” Emma’s smile bloomed as she caught sight of him, and Kurt was relieved to see that she appeared much the same. A little tired, perhaps, but her color was good.

“Miss Emma,” he said as she stood and he hugged her gently. “What’s this I'm hearing about you?”

Emma’s smile was tinged with sadness as she drew back. “Taylor told you. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that today of all days.” His mother had been more than a next-door neighbor to her; she’d been her best friend. It was hard to believe she had been gone three years already.

“I’m glad she did,” Kurt assured her. “I know I haven’t kept in touch like I should have, but you guys are family to me. I can’t believe Sarah didn’t tell me.” He’d spoken to her at least once every day this week as he prepared for his visit home.

A shadow crossed Emma’s face. “She doesn’t know. She’s had . . . enough going on lately that I didn’t want to burden her with this.”

Kurt frowned. “Has my dad’s drinking gotten worse?” He couldn’t imagine that he could drink much more without killing himself, but he’d thought that before, and his father had proved him wrong before. “Is he being more abusive toward Sarah?” He had done his best to convince her to transfer to a college near him in New York, to no avail. He would never understand her unflagging loyalty to a man who hadn’t had a kind word to say to her in years.

“He’s been a little rougher on her lately,” Emma allowed, not wanting to speak out of turn, but feeling Kurt needed a heads-up, so Sarah couldn’t brush it off like she would inevitably try to.

"A little rougher?” Taylor burst out. “Last week when I was over there, he threw his empty beer bottle at her head and called her the spawn of Satan when she wouldn’t go buy him another six-pack.” The fact that she was too young to do so apparently never crossed his mind. “Which is ironic, considering he’s her father.”

“Last week. When you were over there,” Emma repeated in a measured tone. “That’s interesting. I seem to recall forbidding you to go over there more than a month ago. You have some explaining to do, young lady.”

Kurt’s blood, which had begun to boil at Taylor’s outburst, now chilled to ice. If Emma had forbidden Taylor to visit his sister, things were indeed a lot worse than Sarah had been reporting to him. He’d sensed the cheery note in her voice had been forced of late. He should have come home as soon as he’d realized that. “I appreciate the information, Emma. Taylor—” he placed a finger under her chin and tipped her head up until her eyes met his, “no more going over there without permission, all right?”

“Fine,” Taylor muttered. She would just have to pull Kurt aside later and make sure he convinced Sarah to start carving out some time to come over here to visit her regularly. Their friendship was not going to be another casualty of Bill Weller’s alcoholism.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief at Taylor’s acquiescence. Her daughter was stubborn, but she had never been one to go back on her word. She decided to suspend the scolding she so richly deserved this one time. “Do you have time to stay and visit a few minutes?” she asked hopefully. “You know I’m not much at cooking, apart from my chocolate chip cookies, which I plan to make you later, but I can try to fix you an omelet if you like.”

“No need.” Kurt had taught himself to cook after their mother’s passing out of sheer self-preservation. Sarah’s attempts to take over in that department hadn’t been pretty. “I’ll whip us all one up.” He headed for the refrigerator, ignoring Emma’s feeble protests. “Consider it penance for not keeping in touch.”

“In that case, as long as you do better in the future, we accept,” Emma grinned, returning to her seat. She had always loved having a man cook for her. That was probably why she had been so susceptible to . . . She tamped that thought down as quickly as it had come, determined to keep the past firmly locked away where it belonged.

“I will. I promise. Besides,” Kurt teased, “you’ll more than be repaying me later with your cookies. You know they’re probably my favorite food in the whole world.”

“Don’t I know it,” Emma agreed as she set a plateful on the table in front of him and turned to pour him a glass of milk. “You ate so many of them growing up I halfway thought you’d turn into one.”

“What can I say?” Kurt shot back without missing a beat. “I was a growing boy.”

"A growing boy?” Taylor asked as he began dicing vegetables for their omelets. “Is that what you were? You looked more like a bottomless pit to me.” She shrieked with laughter as he dropped the knife and placed her in a headlock, ruffling her hair.

Emma smiled as she watched the two of them interact, relieved to see Taylor laughing and happy for the first time in far too long. She would have to try to convince Kurt to come around more often once she was gone. It would do her daughter a world of good to see him regularly. He knew firsthand the grief of losing a parent, and would be wonderful at helping Taylor through hers.

“How’s college going?” she asked once the omelets were finished and they were all seated around the table. “Are you doing well in all your classes? Fighting the pretty girls off with a stick or have you met a special someone?”

Kurt laughed. One of the things he had missed most about his college experience was having his mom around to ask him questions like that, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine that it was her voice. “Classes are going great, but I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” He dated casually, but he wasn’t willing to settle down at this point in his life and he was upfront about that with every girl he went out with. He wanted a family someday, but love and marriage and kids could wait until after he’d achieved his lifelong dream of becoming an FBI agent.

He sobered up quickly as he broached the subject he’d come to discuss. “We need to talk about Taylor. There’s got to be a way to keep her out of foster care. She deserves better.”

“I agree,” Emma said softly, “but if there is, I haven’t found a way. I’ve spoken to coworkers, teachers, counselors, friends’ parents, and all of them have valid reasons why they can’t take her. I’m out of options here, Kurt.”

“Then I’ll take her,” Kurt said determinedly. “I’ll move back here, and apply to be her foster parent. I can transfer to a college in Pittsburgh; that’s not too long of a commute to make each day, and Taylor’s responsible enough to look after herself if I get home late occasionally.” It would be no different than any other teenager whose parents had to work late, and worlds better than the alternative, in his opinion.

Emma didn’t know how to respond. “Kurt . . .”

“I’ll take good care of her, Emma,” he promised gently.

“I know you would, Kurt.” There wasn't a hint of hesitation in Emma’s voice. She had watched him grow from a boy to a man, and she knew what a big heart he had. This offer proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. “And if I thought there was a chance in the world the state would let you take custody of her, I would consider it. But there would be so many hurdles for you to overcome, and I have such a short time left, that I don’t believe it’s a viable option. And even if it was, if we went that route, her caseworker could remove her from your care at any time. To be honest, I wish I could find a way to bypass the foster care system altogether.”

“Which is exactly why emancipation should be legal,” Taylor fumed. “If I didn’t want to finish high school in Clearfield so badly, I’d be begging you to move me somewhere that does allow it. It’s ridiculous that a girl can get married with her parents’ permission at sixteen in this state, and be free to do as she pleases, but she can’t live on her own at that age _without_ a husband.”

Kurt’s eyes met Emma’s as Taylor spoke and a look of dawning awareness passed between them. Taylor might have unwittingly just provided them with a solution, however extreme. If it was something Emma would be willing to consider.

Emma sucked in a breath at the question in Kurt’s eyes and she held his gaze as she tried desperately to order her thoughts. She knew any reasonable parent would say no, and knew that should be her response as well, but the situation was so much more complicated than that. She’d spent her whole life trying to shield Taylor from the consequences of the decisions she’d made in her youth, and now that she wasn’t going to be around to protect her any longer . . .

It would be nice to go to her grave knowing that her daughter had someone in her corner who loved her enough to make a similar sacrifice for her.

Still, she couldn’t ask that of Kurt. She was just opening her mouth to tell him that, to let him know how much she appreciated his offer but politely decline, when Taylor spoke up.

“Why are the two of you looking at one another that way?” Taylor demanded, glancing from Kurt to her mother and back again. The two of them were staring at one another so oddly that clearly she must have missed something.

Kurt read his answer in Emma’s eyes, as well as her clear reluctance to impose on him in such a monumental way, and he took the decision out of her hands. “How would you feel about marrying me, brat?”

Taylor laughed a little, certain he was kidding. “That’s really sweet, but I _can’t_ marry you, Kurt. According to Mom, I’m not even old enough to date yet. Right, Mom? Mom?” she asked again when Emma didn’t immediately respond, her eyes widening as she realized what their looks had signified. “Oh my god, you’re considering this!”

“It wouldn’t be a real marriage,” Kurt hastened to assure her. “Just a way to keep you in Clearfield and out of foster care until you graduate from high school.”

“How . . .” Taylor’s voice shook a little, and she took a deep breath to steady it. “How would it work? You’re still in college and neither of us would be able to hold down even a part-time job right now. How would we make ends meet? Where would we stay?” Even with Kurt there, she wouldn’t want to live under the same roof as Bill Weller.

“I can help with that,” Emma said slowly. “I own this house free and clear, so I can sign it over to you, Taylor, and I should have enough left in savings to tide you over until you graduate from high school, if you’re frugal and both of you get summer jobs. Before I agree to do that, though, you and Kurt will need to put your heads together and figure out the logistics of this plan.”

“Logistics?” Taylor queried, still shell-shocked by this rapid turn of events.

“Yes, Taylor, logistics,” Emma said patiently. “Who’s going to do the cooking? The cleaning? The laundry? I know you’re not a fan of housework, but you can’t expect Kurt to do it all. He’ll have to leave for college much earlier than you need to leave for school, so how are you going to get there until you obtain your driver’s license? Are you going to start divorce proceedings before you finish high school, or wait until after you graduate? And perhaps most importantly: you’re both going to be essentially single even though you’re married, so are you going to be seeing other people during that time or . . .?”

“Emma,” Kurt said quietly, “I hope you know I would never take advantage of the situation.”

“I do know that, Kurt,” Emma assured him. “If I thought there was the slightest chance otherwise, I wouldn’t even be considering this.” A part of her hated herself for considering it regardless, but this appeared to be Taylor’s last, best option to have the security of a loving home until she came of age. How could she say no to that? But the two of them still needed to work out a viable plan in order to walk away from this without hurt feelings. She would never agree to this plan if she thought there was a chance their friendship would be a casualty of it. “I’ll leave the two of you alone to talk now. Present me with a well-thought-out plan for how this is going to work between you, and we’ll discuss it further.”

She hugged Kurt, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, and did the same for Taylor before exiting the room and leaving the two of them staring at one another, neither sure how to begin.

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

The look on Borden’s face when he stopped speaking . . . Kurt couldn’t help the chuckle that burst forth from him as he took in the man’s flabbergasted expression. “Not what you were expecting, huh, Doc?”

“No,” Borden admitted. He’d assumed, based on what Agent Weller said yesterday, that he had been able to get custody of Taylor, with Emma Shaw’s support and cooperation, and the two of them had begun to develop feelings for one another during that time. “So you actually did it? The two of you worked things out, and you got married before her mother passed away?” It was one of the most selfless things he had ever heard.

And it made the ending to their love story all the more tragic.

“We did,” Kurt confirmed as he glanced at his watch. “I’ll tell you more about it sometime if you want me too, Doc, but for now I need to get to work.”

“Before you go . . . I do have one question.” Borden studied Kurt. “I understand you being able to tell your story from Taylor’s point of view, since the two of you talked about that time often, but how were you able to articulate what her mother was thinking so well?”

“Emma kept a journal,” Kurt told him. “Actually, a number of them, going back well before Taylor was born. We found them after she passed away, and we read them together several times.”

Borden was surprised by that news. “And none of them made any mention of Taylor’s father? I recall you told us that Emma said she was better off without him in her life, but the journals didn’t give any clue as to his identity?”

“No.” Kurt frowned as the doctor’s words brought to mind an old mystery he had all but forgotten. “At least . . . they might have, but the journals from that time frame appeared to be . . . gibberish. They must have been written in some sort of code, but nobody we took them to was ever able to crack it.”

“I don’t suppose you still have them,” Borden said, disappointed. “If anyone could decode them, it would be Agent Patterson.”

“Sorry, Doc. I wish I did.” Kurt started toward the door and then paused. “I should probably mention . . . When Jane and I were talking yesterday, it came up that we didn’t part on good terms. She doesn’t know why, obviously, and with everything that happened to her last night, it probably won’t even come up, but . . .”

“I appreciate the heads-up, Agent Weller,” Borden said evenly. He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you would reconsider telling Jane the truth about your past. It’s bound to come out sooner or later, and it’s better she hears it from you. I would hate for this omission to damage her trust in you. In the FBI.”

He was rapidly coming to that same conclusion. “I’ll talk to Mayfair,” he conceded, nodding to Borden before heading back upstairs.

xxx

As he’d expected, Mayfair was not receptive to the idea.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We had a deal, Weller, or have you forgotten already? If you don’t want to abide by it, I’ll be happy to shut this investigation down now.”

“She’s part of this investigation; she should be included,” Kurt countered. “The whole team should be. What if this factors into the reason she was sent to us? What if knowing the truth triggers a memory that breaks this case wide open?”

“ _Assisting_ this investigation,” Mayfair corrected. “How can you suddenly be so sure we can trust her? Have you forgotten what she did to you? For all we know at this point, she could still be a part of this plot.”

“She’s not,” Kurt said firmly. “She’s not a part of this.” He would stake his life on it. “And Borden thinks toying with her will damage her trust in us when the truth inevitably comes out.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Mayfair had expected that they would have to rehash this issue, but she couldn’t believe that they were having to do it so soon into the investigation. “From the moment she left you nine years ago, everything about this woman is a mystery. No. We need to wait.”

“I’m not wrong,” Kurt told her, but before he could pursue the matter further, he spotted Jane watching them through the glass doors, holding an ice pack to her jaw, and he strode out of Mayfair’s office to check on her.

He would have to take this up another time.

xxx

By the end of the day, Kurt was convinced Mayfair had been right. It _was_ too soon to come clean with Jane about their past, when her every word and deed today had screamed her distrust of them. Of _him_. Hearing her tell him that the bearded man had told her not to trust them, and seeing in her eyes that she believed the _them_ to be the FBI—to be _him—_ had been like a knife to the gut. He was ready to go home and wash this day away with a large glass of scotch, but first he had to debrief with the team. He rubbed his forehead wearily, mentally reviewing today’s events as he headed into the conference room.

Jane had lied to him.

It had stung, coming right on the heels of his assuring Mayfair they could trust her, to realize she didn’t have enough faith in him to tell him what the bearded man said to her in her apartment. To hear her outright deny that he had said anything to her. He had chalked that up to her lack of memories of the two of them, told himself that she only needed a little more time to come around.

But then she had disobeyed orders and nearly gotten herself killed.

He could still taste the fear he had felt when he realized she had left the car, that she had gone after a ruthless group of ex-Navy SEALs alone and unarmed. He had been so relieved to find her alive and unharmed that he hardly cared that they had gotten away, though the scolding he had given her wouldn’t have indicated that.

_What would have happened to you today if you got hurt? If I lost you?_

What would have happened to _him_? He'd lost her once already, let her walk out of his life without so much as a backward glance, and he was still struggling to pick up the pieces from that. If she had been hurt—or killed—on his watch . . .

He would never forgive himself.

He’d begun to realize the validity of her request for a gun in that moment, though he argued against it, but it wasn’t until they came under siege at the hospital that he fully acknowledged how dangerous it was for her to be out in the field unarmed. Something he hoped to remedy shortly.

He bided his time while the team discussed the events of the day and theorized on what _Orion_ could be. “Just once I would like to know something for certain about this case,” Mayfair exploded in frustration when Reade told her that Jane’s attacker was another dead end.

Kurt saw his opportunity. “I know one thing for certain,” he said as he walked toward her. “Jane is an incredible asset. So we need to come to some sort of understanding about her role with us. Because making those decisions on the fly has been less than successful.” He took a deep breath as he glanced at his team and then launched into his reasons for bringing her on as a consultant. An _armed_ consultant.

It took some convincing, but his arguments won the day.

xxx

_First Daylight, now Orion._

Mayfair watched Jane leave her office, now officially a part of the team, and took her first deep breath since Zapata had mentioned that name. It was one she’d hoped to never hear again in this lifetime, and it was beginning to appear that whoever was behind this was targeting her biggest failures, her most regrettable mistakes.

Not that her Orion and the Orion Casey had mentioned to Jane were necessarily one and the same. As Zapata had said, the name itself was insanely vague.

Still . . .

She hadn’t got this far in her career by ignoring coincidences. She wasn’t even sure she believed in them. Everyone from her Orion was supposed to be dead, but given the clusterfuck that operation had turned into, something could easily have been overlooked. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to make sure. She needed to know what she was dealing with here. What danger her _team_ might be facing if remnants of that old operation _had_ surfaced.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the table as she nodded to herself, her mind made up on her next course of action.

It was time to start looking into Emma Shaw.


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

Patterson was practically vibrating with excitement; whatever she had to tell him must be extremely important. Kurt smiled a little as he followed her, wishing he still had that much energy and enthusiasm after a long day at work. Nearly getting killed today by a crazy CDC scientist whose job it was to protect the public from the very disease he’d been trying to spread had left him wanting to go home as quickly as possible and wash this day away with some nice scotch. If it hadn’t been for Jane . . .

 _His compliment to her just now had been right on the money_ , he thought. She had been brave. Brave, but stupid. His heart had leaped into his throat as he saw her hurdle that bench to take down the doctor without protective gear of any kind. Once again, she had rushed into danger to help him without the slightest consideration of the potential consequences to herself. He had been tempted to read her the riot act for doing so, but he hadn’t been able to figure out how to do so without seeming like an ungrateful asshole.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her sacrifice. He was incredibly grateful to be alive. He just didn’t ever want it to be at the expense of her well-being. He had lost Taylor once already. He didn’t think he could go through that again, especially not with so many lingering questions he needed answers to. Answers he would likely never find without her.

“All right,” Kurt said as he took a seat in Patterson’s lab and glanced at the screens displaying interconnected spinning red and white balls that looked vaguely reminiscent of high school science class. Unfortunately, science hadn’t been one of his best subjects. “What am I looking at?”

“Molecules of coltan,” Patterson told him. “Which is short for columbite-tantalite.”

“My favorite of all the tantalites,” Kurt couldn’t resist teasing her.

She smiled at him before turning serious once more. “They’re trace isotopic elements I found in Jane’s tooth.”

Kurt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You pulled one of Jane’s teeth?”

“Well, I . . . I . . . I took the one that was knocked out in the fight at the safe house,” Patterson hastened to defend herself.

Of course she had. Patterson was nothing if not thorough. “All right.”

“I mean, it was too good to resist,” Patterson rushed on. “The . . . the human tooth is a goldmine of genetic information. Besides, it’s not like she can put it back in.”

Fair point. Kurt laughed a little at the blonde’s logic. “Yeah. What does this mean?”

Patterson felt her heart sink a little as she turned to him. “These elements would only be in Jane’s enamel if she was from sub-Saharan Africa.”

Kurt frowned. “Maybe she went there after I . . . lost touch with her.” That lie wasn’t getting any easier no matter how many times he told it. Especially not to the team members closest to him.

“Here’s the thing,” Patterson said gently, wishing she didn’t have to be the one to break this news to him. She walked over to the screen, with Kurt following closely behind her, and brought up more evidence to confirm her findings. “Isotopes can be aged. Kind of like carbon dating. The markers in her teeth are from when she was an infant.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “So what are you saying?” Logically, he knew what Patterson was getting at, but his mind refused to accept it.

Patterson swallowed hard. “She was born in Africa.”

“No,” Kurt contradicted immediately. “She was born in Pennsylvania.” Pittsburgh, in fact. He’d seen her birth certificate. Patterson was already shaking her head, but he ignored her. “I was there the day they brought her home.”

_“Kurt,” his mother called. “Come over here; there’s someone I want you to meet.”_

_Kurt dutifully scampered over to his mom’s side and smiled shyly up at the dark-haired woman holding a tightly-wrapped infant._

_“Emma,” his mom said to the woman, “this is my son, Kurt. Kurt, this is our new neighbor, Ms. Emma Shaw and her newborn daughter, Taylor.”_

_Kurt gravely held out a hand to the woman as she knelt down to his level. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Shaw.”_

_Emma matched his serious tone as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Weller. But please, I’d really like it if you’d call me Ms. Emma.”_

_Kurt giggled. “I’m not Mr. Weller; that’s my dad. But okay, Ms. Emma.” Baby Taylor squirmed in her arms, letting out a soft coo, and he stepped closer to get a better look. She was definitely better looking than his sister had been when his parents brought her home from the hospital. Not nearly as red and wrinkly, and she had hair too. Her eyes instantly fastened on him and followed his every move._

_Emma smiled at him. “I think she likes you. Would you like to hold her?”_

_Kurt glanced up at his mom in mute appeal. “On the couch,” she stipulated, and he nodded, suppressing his urge to run over there so Ms. Emma wouldn’t think he was too ’bunctious to hold Taylor and change her mind. He didn’t exactly know what that word meant, but that was what his mom had said most of the time when he asked to hold Sarah._

_He climbed onto the couch with all the gravity he felt the occasion demanded and felt his chest swell with pride when Ms. Emma gently placed Taylor in his arms. He was just about to glance at his mom to see if she realized how wrong she’d been about him all this time when Taylor smiled up at him, and he promptly lost his heart to her. He reached out with one finger to touch her chubby little fist, just as he’d seen his mom do with Sarah, and Taylor instantly latched onto it, holding it as if she would never let go . . ._

“Kurt?”

Patterson’s voice recalled him back to reality with a start, and he realized she had been speaking to him. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“I’m sorry,” Patterson told him again. “That’s not what the tooth says.” Both his identification and her isotope test appeared to be conclusive, but since they directly contradicted one another, only one of them could be accurate, and as a scientist, she knew which one she would choose to believe. “I hate to have to ask this, Weller, but are you certain that Jane Doe is Taylor Shaw?”

Of course he was. He was hardly likely to misidentify his own wife _. Ex-wife_ , Kurt corrected himself. And Patterson’s question was ludicrous. There was no question that Jane was Taylor. She had the tattoo of her mother’s initials on her wrist—and the scar on her neck. And he had felt the same surge of desire when she touched him as he always had with Taylor. “I’m sure.”

His tone of voice indicated the subject was closed—at least in his mind—so Patterson let the subject drop for now. She could certainly understand why he wanted Jane to be Taylor—if she wasn’t her, his friend was still missing and statistically had likely met an unpleasant end—but the evidence just didn’t entirely jive with that conclusion. If he didn’t revisit the issue with her in a day or two, she would have no choice but to bring it up to Mayfair. Perhaps their boss would have better luck helping him see reason.

Kurt headed straight for that bottle of scotch the moment he arrived home. As if Patterson’s disquieting revelations weren’t enough on top of the day he’d had, Sarah was eyeing him with a speculative gleam that in his experience didn’t portend anything good. Hopefully whatever it was wouldn’t be as bad as the smell of whatever she was cooking for dinner. If she didn’t move out soon, his neighbors might well ask _him_ to. “Let’s hear it.”

Sarah took a seat at the far end of the couch. “So I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About Taylor wanting to meet me,” she clarified when Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Oh, god. It wasn’t going to be as bad. It was going to be _worse._ He never should have mentioned that to her, but she had asked him how things were going with Taylor, and he had blurted it out without thinking. “Sarah—”

“I think it would be a good idea for you to invite her over here for dinner.”

Sure he would. When hell froze over. “Right. I’ll do that sometime.” Like never. Never was a good time. Hopefully Sarah would forget about it or change her mind before he ever had to issue the invitation.

“No, Kurt.” Sarah frowned at him. “Not sometime. _Tonight._ There’s no time like the present, don’t you think?”

What he thought about the idea wasn’t fit for his nephew’s ears. “Well . . .”

“What are you afraid of, Kurt?” Sarah asked sharply. “That I’m inviting her over here in order to rake her over the coals about a past she can’t even remember?”

Well, actually . . .

“Or that I’ll mention something about your past that you don’t want her to know?” Sarah rushed on, oblivious to the turmoil of her brother’s thoughts. “Because I can be discreet, and no matter my personal feelings about Taylor, I would never mistreat an invited guest.”

Kurt sidestepped that issue. As well-meaning as he knew his sister to be, she _was_ extremely protective of him, and he knew all too well just how easy it was for a person to slip up and unintentionally reveal something while talking. He’d certainly done so last night. “I just think it’s too short notice, that’s all, Sarah. It was a long day, so she probably picked up something to eat on her way home.”

“Well, we’ll never know unless you call her and ask,” Sarah pointed out practically. “You never know; she might jump at the opportunity. It’s got to be lonely for her going home to a safe house night after night without anyone she knows to spend time with.”

His sister was like a dog with a bone once she had latched onto an issue; clearly he wasn’t going to get out of this. Kurt sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Jane and ask, but if she says no, you have to agree to drop the idea altogether. Deal?”

“Jane?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Jane?”

It had completely slipped his mind that he hadn’t mentioned Taylor’s request to her. “Taylor asked to be called Jane until she starts getting her memories back.”

That was utterly ridiculous in Sarah’s book, but she held her tongue, knowing if she made any comment now, all bets were off. Kurt could do as he pleased, but _she_ hadn’t agreed to call her by that name. And she wouldn’t. “Fine,” she said, knowing he would misunderstand her meaning. “But when you call her, you have to make it sound like we really want her to come, Agent Grumpy Pants.” She wouldn’t put it past him to issue a half-hearted invitation that would have Taylor running as fast as she could in the other direction.

Kurt simply raised an eyebrow at Sarah as he turned away and reached for his phone to make the call.

Unfortunately, Jane hadn’t yet ordered anything to eat, and she was thrilled to receive his invitation. Kurt’s mouth tightened as he met Sarah’s expectant gaze when he hung up the phone. “She’ll be here in about half an hour.”

“Great,” Sarah said cheerfully. “I’ll go check on dinner.”

Kurt spent the entire time praying for a critical incident, a hit on one of Jane’s tattoos, even a natural disaster (a small one) to require their immediate attention, but no such crisis was forthcoming. He took a deep breath when he heard the knock on the door but before he could even think of moving in that direction, Sarah raced past him and flung it open.

Sarah had expected to feel nothing but anger if she ever laid eyes on Taylor again, but to her surprise, she felt a grin splitting her face. Taylor had been her best friend for over half her life, and those memories were the first to come flooding back. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it. It’s you.” Her gaze roamed over Taylor, seeing not only the tattoos adorning her chest but also the complete lack of recognition in her eyes. “It’s like . . . it’s like really you.”

 _Who did you think it was going to be, Sarah?_ Kurt thought, draining his glass of wine in one large gulp before starting toward them.

“Come on in; come on in,” Sarah urged.

“Okay,” Jane said as she stepped over the threshold, relieved to see Kurt approaching. She was already feeling incredibly overwhelmed—several times on the drive over here she had almost asked her security detail to turn around and take her home—and Sarah’s niceness only added to her anxiety, given how Kurt had said they parted. She probably should have thought this through a little better, but the invitation had been so unexpected that she had agreed to it before her brain had begun to process it.

“Oh my god, you’re still so pretty. You don’t look like you’ve aged a day since I last saw you. Come here.” Sarah threw her arms around Taylor, ignoring the stiffness in her body as she hugged her fiercely.

Jane smiled a little as Sarah finally let her go, and the two of them stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable second before a timer went off. _Thank god._

“Sorry,” Sarah apologized, already turning toward Kurt, who nodded to her. “Umm . . . excuse me.” She hurried to the kitchen. “Sawyer! Dinner time!”

 _Finally,_ Jane was alone with Kurt. “It smells good.”

“No,” Kurt contradicted. “It doesn’t.” He couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that appeared on his face in answer to Jane’s shy grin. Taylor had always been complimentary of Sarah’s cooking, never failing to choke down a few bites no matter how terrible the results had proven to be, and many was the night that the two of them had left her place and headed straight for a nearby fast-food restaurant. It had become such a standing joke between them that the two of them had begun to take turns picking out where they would go for their “after-dinner dinner.” It made him sad to realize he was the only one left who remembered those idyllic days.

“No. It doesn’t,” Jane agreed, blushing as she looked away from Kurt’s intensely amused gaze.

“No.” Kurt searched for another topic of conversation as Jane looked down at her feet. “Do you want a drink?”

“Okay,” Jane agreed quickly. _Too quickly,_ she realized as his eyes lit with amusement once more, but just as with his invitation, there was no taking back her acceptance.

Thankfully, Sarah got dinner on the table quickly, and in no time at all, they were seated around the round table, and Jane was being treated to Kurt’s most embarrassing childhood stories.

“Well, where is your dad?” Jane asked as Sarah concluded her latest one. “I’d love to meet him.” If he wasn’t too angry to sit down with her, of course. Dinner with Sarah was going so well that she was daring to hope that Kurt’s sister might be willing to set the past aside for now and be her friend once more. It would be nice to add yet another person to her circle of acquaintances that had known her.

She realized she’d made a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Kurt’s face darkened, and the silence that fell over the table was deafening. Her smile slipped from her face as she glanced from him to Sarah.

Kurt reached for his glass of wine again. “Uh . . . W-we don’t talk much anymore.”

Jane didn’t know what to say.

“Who are you?” Sawyer asked innocently at the lull in the conversation.

“Sawyer, this is Taylor,” Sarah told him.

Jane dropped her fork onto her plate with a clatter, and Kurt shot his sister a furious glance. He should have known they wouldn’t be able to get through this evening without some remnant of the past being dredged up.

Sarah met Kurt’s gaze evenly before continuing on. “Umm . . . we were all friends when we were little kids like you, but then once we grew up . . . well, she was gone a long time, but now she’s back.”

“Where did you go?” Sawyer wanted to know.

 _She felt as if she had descended into the very mouth of hell itself. The smoke around her was so thick she could scarcely breathe and even though she couldn’t see the fire, she could certainly feel its heat._ What had happened? _she wondered, but she didn’t spare another moment to try to figure it out. The rubble was probably still unstable, but she didn’t care, didn’t hesitate as she began inching forward, because nothing mattered except getting to . . ._

Jane stood up so abruptly she rattled the plates on the table. “Excuse me.” She rushed out the door and down the hallway to the elevator, pressing the button over and over in a desperate attempt to make it arrive before Kurt could reach her.

No such luck. “Jane. Jane. Hey,” Kurt said as he hurried after her.

“I’m sorry. Okay? But I just . . . I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

The look of desperation in her eyes broke his heart. “It’s okay. We might have rushed it a little bit. No one expects you to become Taylor again overnight.”

“Yeah . . . that’s just it,” Jane responded. “I don’t . . . feel . . .” Like Taylor, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that to him. She’d already seen how losing her had hurt him; she wasn’t about to rub salt into that wound.

“What, Jane?” Kurt asked, wishing she would tell him what she was feeling. Wanting her to talk to him as Taylor once had about anything and everything.

Wanting her to be Taylor again, in spite of what he had just told her.

The elevator doors opened and Jane rushed inside. “I-I’m sorry. I . . .”

“Talk to me, Jane,” Kurt pleaded as the elevator doors began to slide shut.

Instead, she pressed the button for the ground floor and closed her eyes as Kurt’s anguished face disappeared from view, feeling hot tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

Kurt remained in the hallway long after the elevator had reached its destination and its occupant had left the building. He stood there and wondered how an evening that began so well had gone wrong so quickly, leaving him standing here staring at his reflection in the shiny metal.

Wondering how many times he was going to be forced to endure Taylor walking away from him.

xxx

Kurt slept only fitfully the next few nights. He had engaged in a heated argument with Sarah after Sawyer went to bed after Jane left over her decision to call Jane _Taylor_ , and though they had apologized to one another, things still weren’t quite back to normal between them. His mood wasn’t improved when he walked into work on the third day and received a summons to his boss’s office. He had a feeling he knew what this was about.

“Why am I learning about this from Patterson and not you?” Mayfair demanded as she walked in, tossing the file on the desk in front of him.

“It doesn’t change a thing,” Kurt retorted. Jane was Taylor. There was no question about that in his mind. He had intimate knowledge of her, for god’s sake. There was no way he could be mistaken.

“This isotope test on Jane’s tooth stands in direct conflict with the history of Taylor Shaw that you yourself provided us,” Mayfair pointed out.

“Which means the isotope test is wrong,” Kurt fired back.

“Which means one of them’s wrong.” Mayfair walked around her desk and took a seat.

“Look, I’m not talking about some mineral that found its way into her tooth somehow.” Kurt leaned forward in frustration. “I grew up with Jane. I—”

“You grew up with _Taylor Shaw_ ,” Mayfair interrupted. “It seems to me that there’s now reasonable doubt that she and Jane are one and the same. They say everyone has a twin out there somewhere, Weller.”

“And . . . what? You think that someone out there searched the world over for the twin to my ex-wife just so he could wipe her memory and send her to me at the FBI? That’s pretty farfetched, don’t you think? I mean, if that’s the case, why go to all that trouble rather than locating my actual ex-wife and using her?”

 _Maybe they couldn’t._ Mayfair didn’t speak the thought aloud, but it hung in the air between them.

“You think she’s dead,” Kurt surmised. “You think they did get their hands on her, but she refused to cooperate, or something went wrong, and they killed her. And that’s why they went looking for a look-alike to substitute.” There were several things wrong with that theory, but also one very big factor in its favor: Taylor would have died before agreeing to participate in a plot against him. Or anyone.

“I think it’s a possibility we at least need to consider,” Mayfair told him. She rattled off the elements in Patterson’s report. “These elements at these ratios put Jane’s place of birth and early infancy in sub-Saharan Africa, which makes it extremely difficult for her to have been living next door to you in Clearfield, Pennsylvania at that time.”

Kurt met Mayfair’s gaze without blinking. “Jane has the scar on the back of her neck from falling out of that tree when we were kids. She has the tattoo of her mother’s initials on her wrist—”

“Which Patterson said was brand new,” Mayfair interrupted. “But even if she got that wrong as well, it brings up another matter.” She had been debating whether or not to mention this to him, but given his questionable state of mind at the moment, perhaps it would be just the shaking up he needed. She opened her desk drawer and withdrew the file containing the background check she had run on Taylor’s mother. “How well did you know Emma Shaw?”

“Emma?” Kurt’s gaze flickered to the folder on Mayfair’s desk. “Emma was like a second mom to me.” Had _become_ his mom, in fact, for an all-too-brief period of time. “Why?”

Mayfair slid the file across the desk to him. “Because she wasn’t Emma Shaw.”

If she had expected surprise, she didn’t get it. Kurt merely raised an eyebrow as he opened the file and read it without comment. The real Emma Shaw had been born in Philadelphia in 1962, just as his Emma had always claimed, but her life had been tragically cut short at two years of age when her entire family perished in a fiery car crash while on their way to visit relatives in Colorado after skidding off an icy mountain road and plunging several hundred feet into a ravine below.

After that, the next time Emma Shaw had popped up on the government’s radar was when she had given birth to Taylor in a hospital in Pittsburgh and subsequently purchased the house next door to theirs in Clearfield. Where she had lived out the remainder of her life.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Mayfair commented as he finished reading and handed the file back to her.

“No,” Kurt admitted. “I can’t really say that I am.” His boss looked at him steadily, silently requesting clarification on that statement, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Look . . . Emma was one of the best people I’ve ever known in my life. She was hardworking, compassionate, and absolutely devoted to Taylor.”

“But?” Mayfair prompted when he paused.

“But . . . I realized by the time I was a teenager that she had her secrets. She never talked about her life before she moved to Clearfield. I overheard my mom and dad once speculating that Emma had been in an abusive relationship and fled when she got pregnant with Taylor, and given how gun-shy she was about dating and how vigilant she was about Taylor’s safety, I always figured they were right.”

And what he had just learned only solidified that theory in his mind. The easiest way to assume a new identity was to obtain the birth certificate of a person around your own age that no one was likely to come looking for. Emma Shaw fit that description to a tee.

“You know who else tends to live under assumed identities?” Mayfair pointed out. “Criminals.”

“Emma wasn’t a criminal,” Kurt said hotly. He didn’t think he’d ever even seen her jaywalk across a street. “She dedicated her whole life to raising Taylor and caring for others as a nurse in our local ER, and she did a bang-up job at both. And the moment she saw a person in need, she always jumped right in to help them. I never met a more selfless person in my life.”

“And how many times have we seen that exact same scenario played out?” Mayfair asked patiently. “Criminals—even _murderers_ —fleeing from law enforcement and integrating themselves into little towns like Clearfield, and their neighbors being shocked when they get caught years later, and swearing up and down that they were some of the nicest people they ever met.”

Kurt shook his head stubbornly. “That wasn’t Emma. I’m telling you, she was a genuinely good person.”

“We don’t know what she was. Or even _who_ she was,” Mayfair shot back. “Just as we don’t know who Jane Doe is. Kurt . . . you can’t pick and choose evidence to suit your preferred narrative. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.” She gathered Patterson’s report up and returned it to its folder. “Have you told her yet?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Kurt responded just as his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, relieved at the interruption. “Patterson.”

“This matter’s not closed,” Mayfair warned him.

Kurt left without another word. Nothing would ever convince him that Emma had been anything other than the warmhearted woman who patched up his scrapes when his mother wasn't available and fed him chocolate chip cookies by the bucketful, and he was equally certain that Jane was Taylor. He knew her body as well as he did his own, and he simply couldn’t be mistaken about this. He _wouldn’t_ feel this way about another woman he had no history with just because she looked like one he’d loved with all his heart. That was crazy.

No, just as he’d told Mayfair, there was nothing to tell. Jane was Taylor. End of story.

But a tiny seed of doubt had been planted.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

Kurt took a deep breath to reign in his conflicting emotions as he and Jane arrived at the MWA building in Queens. With a hostage crisis in process, he needed all his wits about him, but all through the largely silent drive over here, his thoughts had kept drifting back to his conversation with Mayfair. Could she possibly be right that Jane wasn’t Taylor? Was his attraction to her merely based on her uncanny resemblance to his ex-wife, rather than a shared history she no longer remembered, a remnant of the unfinished business he had with Taylor?

No, Kurt decided as he exited the vehicle, he wasn’t wrong. He _couldn’t_ be. He and Taylor had always shared a soul-deep connection, the same connection he now felt with Jane. A connection he wouldn’t feel with two different women merely because they looked alike. The two of them were one and the same; they had to be. He couldn’t account for the conflicting evidence Patterson had uncovered, but just because he couldn’t see an explanation at the moment didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

It just meant that he hadn’t found it yet.

Suddenly feeling much more hopeful, he focused his attention on the business at hand as Reade and Zapata began bringing him up to speed on the situation, and negotiating with the hostage takers soon drove the matter from his mind completely. The man he was speaking to was understandably jumpy and tense, but Kurt was initially hopeful they could resolve things peacefully.

Unfortunately, as was all too often the case in these situations, when things took a turn for the worse, it devolved quickly. “All right,” he said as he hung up the phone with the lead hostage taker for the second time. “They’re separating the hostages. That’s not good.”

“This is so crazy,” Jane commented. She’d been hanging back since they arrived, trying to make sense not just of what was going on, but of how anyone could have anticipated today’s events. And how she fit into it all. “These people are willing to risk hurting all those innocent people just because they lost their jobs?”

“People snap,” Kurt retorted, glancing away to clear his head. How was he supposed to maintain a professional distance when the shadows lingering in her brilliant green eyes from last night’s disastrous dinner made him want to sweep her up in his arms and kiss them all away? He never should have told Sarah about her desire to meet. He never should have passed Sarah’s dinner invitation on to her.

“Why . . . why do you think this is tattooed on my body? How could they have known that this was going to happen?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted. Three of his least favorite words, and yet he seemed to be uttering them with alarming frequency of late. And not just speaking them: they had invaded every facet of his life until all of the certainties that made up his existence were in danger of being swept away in the tidal wave that was this case.

“Jane.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard, and gently took hold of her arm. “Are you okay to be here today? Last night, you seemed . . . kind of . . .”

“No!” Jane interrupted. He couldn’t send her home, not now, not today, not when her thoughts were unsettled and the four walls of her safe house would feel more like a prison than ever. “Uh . . . The field is the only place I feel comfortable.”

“I know that feeling.” Kurt kept his eyes trained on Jane, but she glanced down at her hands, refusing to meet his gaze. It wasn’t one that he’d ever wanted to have in common with Taylor. She’d been the light in his world to balance the darkness he saw every day, and once she was gone, it had enveloped him. Just as it now seemed to have her. “Trust me.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Jane said abruptly, hoping that he would accept her apology without pressing her for an explanation for her actions. Hoping that they could regain their old footing without her having to hurt him further. If the look in his eyes as he’d watched that elevator door close last night was any indication, she’d done that more than enough already.

“It was a lot to take in,” Kurt responded. “Probably too much. My sister . . .” He scoffed lightly. Sarah meant well, but she had all of his stubbornness and none of the perspective that came from watching Jane struggle daily to find her place in the unfamiliar world she had woken up in. “Sarah, she . . .”

“No . . .” Jane had no choice but to correct his mistaken assumption. She was going to have to be totally honest with him here in order to make things right between them, and she steeled herself as she met his warm blue eyes. “Actually, Kurt . . . it wasn’t Sarah.” She glanced away from his confused gaze but was inevitably drawn back to it like a moth to a flame. “I see the way you look at me . . . and I don’t know how to be this person that you lost.”

Kurt was stunned. Jane didn’t have to _do_ anything; she simply _was._ He opened his mouth to reassure her that she didn’t have to be anyone other than herself, but before he could speak, could even think how to phrase what he wanted to say _,_ Zapata entered the van to announce they had eyes inside the building, and the moment was lost.

Things moved quickly after that, and within minutes, he was standing in the lobby of the building staring down at the bodies of several dead hostages. They’d been played, Kurt thought viciously, but for _what?_

He got his answer when he and Jane discovered the vault with the three dead men inside, one of whom had clearly been tortured, but before he could even begin to make sense of the scene, they were confronted by the CIA, by Deputy Director Tom Carter himself, and everything became crystal clear. The deaths of the innocent people upstairs had been nothing more than a smokescreen for a hit on an operation that was totally illegal within the US to begin with.

Kurt struggled to keep his temper in check as he and Carter bantered. It was clear to him that the man viewed this as a game, and the unnecessary loss of life was nothing more to him than collateral damage in service to some nebulous greater good that the public would never know about. It would be hollow comfort to their grieving families, anyway. God, he hated the CIA.

“This is the illustrated woman.” Kurt fought the urge to step in front of Jane protectively as Carter’s gaze once again landed on her with an expression that made him very uncomfortable. The same look he had fleetingly seen in his eyes when he first caught sight of her. A mixture of unease and . . . recognition?

His brow furrowed, but before he had time to ponder the thought, Mayfair arrived, and he was relieved his boss knew Carter and was able to hold her own with him. He was less thrilled that Jane was ordered to leave, but on second thought, he thought it might be for the best that she was out of Carter’s line of sight—and he out of hers.

And by the time she was out of his, he had convinced himself that he must have been mistaken and put the matter out of his mind . . . until Carter’s taunting words about Jane being a weapon, words fraught with the same edge of unease he had glimpsed in the man’s eyes, caused him to reconsider.

Kurt glanced at Mayfair as soon as he left. “Do you think . . . could Carter have known Jane? He seemed . . . unsettled by her when he first arrived.” The entire time he’d been here, really.

Mayfair took care to maintain her own poker face as she pretended to consider the question. She would have loved to downplay the possibility, but Kurt had just reminded her that he was good enough at reading people that it would be dangerous to do so. But it was potentially even more deadly not to, if her own growing suspicions were correct. If Jane really was who she thought. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

She did her best to find a middle ground. “Carter? It’s possible, if Jane really was Special Forces. They’ve been known to do off-the-books work for the CIA. But you’ll never get him to admit it if he did. It would be classified.”

“The mission itself, maybe, but not the fact that he knew her,” Kurt argued. “Not the details of her whereabouts the last few years when she was stateside. What possible motive could he have for concealing that?”

What, indeed. Mayfair managed a casual shrug. “I’ve known Tom Carter for years, and trust me, he doesn’t need a reason. I don’t know if his position went to his head, or if CIA training requires a course in being an asshole, but he’s always been a power unto himself.”

That fit with his own observations of the man, so Kurt reluctantly let the matter drop. He still had a case to solve, after all, and he was more determined than ever to do so after the CIA had all but ordered them to stand down. He turned to leave, but Mayfair’s final words chilled his blood.

“And Kurt?” she called as he headed out the door. “Watch your backs out there today.” It was as close as she could come to an acknowledgement that he was right.

She was going to have to keep a close eye on her team during the remainder of this case.

xxx

“Dodi fell off the CIA’s radar years ago, right?” Jane asked Kurt as they walked down the hall to take the elevator to the interrogation room where his two suspected accomplices were being held. “And then, when he reemerged, he was a completely different person.”

Kurt glanced over at Jane as he pushed the button for the elevator but didn’t respond, and she swallowed hard before continuing. She hadn’t been happy with how they left their conversation in the van this morning, and she thought perhaps drawing a parallel between his situation and hers would help Kurt better understand her point of view. “I fell off your radar, too, and then something happened to me . . . a lot of things, maybe . . . none of which we know.” And she was beginning to think maybe she didn’t want to know.

“Yet,” Kurt corrected. They didn’t know what had happened to her _yet._ But they would. When Jane finally recovered her memories, she would remember that he was far too stubborn to give up until he had accomplished his objective. And never before had he been so personally motivated to do so. He would get the answers they sought—that both of them desperately needed—even if it killed him. Even if he didn’t like what he found.

Which was looking increasingly likely to be the case. Kurt frowned slightly. When he’d taken over this case, he’d thought the hardest part of it would be meeting Taylor’s new lover, the man she had left him for, but the certainty that she had done so was increasingly being eroded these days, just like so many other strongly-held beliefs he’d had about his life.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why he’d ever believed her capable of such a thing in the first place. Taylor had been nothing but tenaciously loyal and loving and kind her entire life; she was no more a cheater than . . . well, than he would have been. Would ever be. And if she had been, she would have faced him and owned it, just as she had every other mistake she’d made in her life. The fact that she’d run away, had refused to see or speak with him, should have been a huge red flag, but he’d allowed his anger and grief and injured pride to blind him to the facts and she had paid the price.

Though what that price was, exactly, was yet to be determined.

“It feels like you’re waiting for me to remember something that is never going to come,” Jane said in frustration. Like he was waiting for her to _be_ someone that she was never going to be again. Other people and situations were triggering memories; why not him? Why not the one person she’d been friends with the majority of her life? Unless . . .

Unless she wasn’t Taylor Shaw.

Jane was loath to give credence to the idea, but now that it had crossed her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. What proof did they have, really, that she was this Taylor Shaw? Certainly Weller’s ID of her should be conclusive, but they had no DNA match to back it up, no fingerprints, nothing that would provide proof beyond a reasonable doubt. Was it possible that she was simply an imposter who bore an incredible resemblance to his old friend?

“If your coming back has taught me one thing, it’s to never give up hope,” Kurt told her, holding her gaze for a moment before the elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. After all, that was what he had done in the past that had led to this mess, wasn’t it? He’d lost faith in Taylor, and the consequences had been personally devastating for him and disastrous for her.

He wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

xxx

“Think they’ll find it?” Jane asked anxiously as she watched the numbers on the monitor. They were gradually increasing, but none of them were nearly high enough to contain the radiological material they were looking for. Even with the Geiger counters, thirty blocks was an awful lot of ground to cover.

“You don’t remember playing hot or cold, do you?” Kurt asked, feeling a pang at this fresh reminder of just how much she had lost. He couldn’t imagine not recalling something as simple as a favorite childhood game.

Jane gave her head a slight shake. “No.” Could that be because she had never played it?

“As long as those Geiger readings are going up, it means we’re getting hotter,” Kurt explained. Taylor had always had such a knack for finding the hot zone that if he hadn’t known how honest she was, he would have thought she was cheating.

“What happened after we . . . lost touch?” Jane wanted to know. She was dangerously aware this was approaching forbidden territory, but she _needed_ to know. “I mean, with you?”

Kurt glanced at her briefly before looking away. “I was . . . I was in the FBI Academy at Quantico at the time. After I graduated, I was assigned to this office, so I went back to California and packed up ou—my stuff and moved here. And I’ve been here ever since.” He looked at her again. “I know that your being Taylor might not be an answer to all of your problems . . . but it’s a starting point. It’s something to hold onto. It’s something to build from.”

How could that be, Jane wondered, when she hadn’t even recovered one faint memory that made her feel connected to that past? That made her believe she might have once been the Taylor Shaw he had so clearly loved? Perhaps as more than a friend. His slip of the tongue had not been lost on her.

Before she could think how to frame her response, however, the Geiger counters picked up the readings they were looking for, and their conversation was once again interrupted.

Perhaps it was just as well, Jane mused, as Reade and Zapata joined them, and Weller gave the agents the order to breach the location. He had mentioned that her return had given him _hope,_ and the last thing she wanted to do was snatch that away from him again. She knew all too well how it felt to have none.

She swallowed hard as she listened to the team leader describe the conditions in the building. “Pretty dark in here. Lights don’t work. There’s a staircase to the basement. Heading down now.”

“Pretty cold down here.” Her eyes closed, and she tuned him out after that.

_How could she be cold when everything around her was burning? she wondered as she groped her way through the smoky blackness down what was left of the stairs toward where she had last seen . . ._

Her eyes flew open as gunfire erupted.

_The popping sound was reminiscent of gunfire, and she fought her panic, fought the natural urge to get out of a doomed building, as she inched her way forward through the doorway at the base of the stairs, a sliver of light from the fire now illuminating her path, and saw . . . No!_

Jane rushed out of the room and down the hall, leaning against an open doorway, her breath fast and shallow as the images played on a repeating loop in her head. Images that only served to further deepen her confusion between what she had been told of her past and what she was now remembering. Who _was_ she? And who was . . .

“Find out where those guys went,” Kurt ordered as he followed her. “Jane,” he said softly as he came to a stop beside her, and then when she didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to hear him, a little louder. “Jane! You all right?”

Jane’s eyes were wide and shaken as she looked up into Kurt’s concerned face. “I saw . . . I saw . . .” _Who_ had she seen? Herself, presumably, but how was that even possible? The images made no sense.

“Who, Jane?” Kurt asked gently. “Who did you see?”

 _Me,_ she thought as her brow furrowed and the tears that had been threatening finally overflowed, sobs shaking her slender body as they tracked their way down her cheeks. She’d seen herself laying still and nearly lifeless, half-buried beneath the rubble of a smoldering building. “Oh, no. What happened to me?”

“Jane! Hey,” Kurt said, trying to keep her focus on him, to no avail. He acted on instinct, responded just as he had done when Taylor’s mother died, grabbing her hand and placing it over his heart. “Here. Jane. There.” He covered her hand firmly with his own, pressing it against his chest until he was sure she could feel his heartbeat. “Do you feel that?”

Sobs clogged her throat as she looked up at him, still unable to answer.

“I’m here. I’m here with you,” he assured her, just as he had done the day Emma Shaw had died. Just as he had been for her every day since—until she no longer needed him. Or so he’d thought. Just as he would be every day from now on if she would allow—He stopped that thought in its tracks. “You’re okay. Keep breathing, Jane. You’re okay. Just keep breathing.”

_“Keep breathing, Taylor,” Kurt urged his wife of just a few weeks as the sobs shaking her slim young body threatened to choke her, tears flowing freely down his own cheeks as well as the two of them grieved the loss of the woman who had been a mother to both of them. Emma had only been gone a few minutes, and already the world felt like a much colder place. He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers as he brought their hands up to his heart, pressing them firmly against his chest until both of them could feel his heartbeat. “I’m here. I’m here with you. We’re in this together. We’re going to get through this together. Just keep breathing with me.”_

“Is everything okay out here?” Reade asked as he followed them into the hall, raising an eyebrow at their closeness.

Kurt glanced his way as he felt Jane begin to tug free of his hold, silently cursing his interference as he felt Jane begin to tug free of his hold. “Yeah,” he said, watching as Jane hurried away from him once again. It was getting to be a habit. Reade turned to watch her leave as well. “We’re good,” he reiterated.

“You sure?” Reade still wasn’t convinced. “She seemed a little . . .”

So would he, if his past had been erased and he'd been tattooed and left in a bag for a stranger he had a nebulous history with to decode. Really, it was a wonder Jane was functioning as well as she was, rather than curled up in a ball in a corner somewhere. “She’s fine.”

He determinedly put Jane’s well-being from his mind for the moment and got back to work.

xxx

Mayfair rushed from the office the moment she heard the cesium was at the cemetery and headed there as quickly as the typically backed-up New York traffic would allow, praying she wouldn’t be too late. If the cesium was there, Dodi would be as well, and where he was, Carter was sure to be close behind. And if he got the chance . . .

She parked on a grassy knoll that gave her the best vantage point of the area and followed the sounds of gunfire toward her team, taking care to stay covered as much as possible. Carter and his people were as big a threat at this point as Dodi and the Dabbur Zann. She spotted him about twenty feet ahead of her just as Jane set the urn of cesium down, and she and Weller began walking Dodi away from it, and began carefully, soundlessly, easing toward him.

She allowed him to raise his rifle and take aim at Jane’s head, wanting to be sure of his intentions, before she deliberately cocked her own gun and aimed it at the back of his head. “Don’t you dare,” she warned in a voice colder than ice.

“You have your shot,” Carter said, glancing back at her without taking his finger off the trigger. Taunting her to see just how far she would go. “Take it.”

“I’m not you,” Mayfair responded, willing to take the shot if he forced her hand but hoping it wouldn’t come to that. “Drop it.”

Carter reluctantly lowered his rifle and half-turned toward her. “You think you’re saving her,” he commented. “All you’re doing is killing us. She’s not what you think, Bethany.”

She had a pretty good idea what Carter thought she was: a loose end. If she had included a picture of Jane in that file she had sent him, Jane would undoubtedly already be dead. “And what is she?” she asked evenly as she put the safety back on and lowered her own weapon. She would have liked to ask _who_ she was, but she didn’t want to overplay her hand. She didn’t want him to know that she’d already made the connection to Orion. She had no proof, after all, and he was the only person she knew who could supply that.

But from his silence, it was clear he wouldn’t be doing that today.

Though he made one last attempt to gain control of the loose end he was clearly so worried about. Mayfair stared at him stone-faced as he made the offer to trade Dodi for Jane, staying silent for just a beat longer than was necessary to make him that she was considering, that the right circumstances might induce her to hand Jane over, before declining in no uncertain terms.

Inwardly, she was exultant. Carter had just showed her his cards, and her supposition had been right. The CIA was not an organization known for fair trades; Carter would have never have been willing to strike such a bargain if Jane’s value wasn’t exponentially higher to him than any intel Dodi could provide, even if it was just the value of saving face. Of keeping the public from ever finding out how his overreaction six years ago had cost two innocent American girls their lives.

Well, one apparently, Mayfair amended, glancing at Jane as she ordered her team to stand down. Live to fight another day, she told herself. And she would; she most certainly would. While her culpability in Orion was almost negligible compared to her actions in Daylight, its consequences had haunted her dreams far more often. Never would she have imagined that she would be granted the privilege to make even partial amends for it, but she was going to take full advantage of the opportunity she’d been handed.

Jane was under her protection now, and she wouldn’t rest until she set things right.


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

Kurt was waiting in Borden’s office when the psychologist arrived in the morning. “I nearly kissed Jane last night,” he announced without preamble as soon as the man walked into the room. He’d lain awake most of the night reliving that almost-kiss, torn between relief that he’d been strong enough to walk away and regret over the missed opportunity.

“Did you?” Borden asked mildly as he took a seat, not at all surprised by the revelation. A blind person could have seen that coming—from a mile away. Not that he had expected it to happen _quite_ this soon. But it had been obvious to him from the moment Agent Weller began describing Taylor that he still had unresolved feelings for her, and even in the limited times he’d witnessed their interactions, he’d known that it was only a matter of time before they boiled over. “What stopped you?”

Kurt glared at him. “She’s my _ex-wife_ , Doc.” A fact that had him even more conflicted now that he strongly suspected Taylor _hadn’t_ cheated on him. “And a . . . a victim.” God, he hated using that word in connection with her. From the time she was small, she had been the one to stand up for the defenseless, and now it was her turn to need that kind of help.

Not that she was defenseless, per se. Quite the opposite, in fact. Despite the personal hell she was enduring, she was every bit as kind and compassionate as she had always been. In the week that she had been back in his life, she had selflessly jumped in at every opportunity to help others. Was it any wonder that he still found himself attracted to her?

Borden nodded slowly. For a man like Agent Weller, who prided himself on his control and objectivity, not to mention his ability to get justice for the victims in his cases, the lack of progress on this one must be incredibly frustrating, especially given his personal connection to it. “I have a question for you,” he said. “You mentioned when I walked in here that you almost kissed Jane last night, but did you really?”

Kurt frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Was it Jane you almost kissed,” Borden expounded, hesitating briefly before going on, “or _Taylor?”_ Weller looked completely dumbfounded, and he hastened to explain himself. “Look. Taylor was ripped out of your life without warning or explanation, and I’m guessing you buried yourself in work rather than dealing with your emotions about what happened. It’s only natural given the lack of closure that those feelings would rise to the surface now.”

“So what do I do, Doc?” Kurt asked wearily. “How do I separate those feelings from my professional obligations?” Under ordinary circumstances, he might consider stepping down as lead agent—but whoever was behind this had already made it clear that that wasn’t an option. And he wanted justice for Taylor too much to do so in this case anyway.

“For starters, perhaps you should try acting like her boss, rather than a long-lost friend,” Borden suggested. “Maintain a professional distance, at least for now, while we sort things out.”

“ _We?”_ Kurt repeated wryly. He should have known the psychologist’s solution would be more talking—to him.

Borden smiled a little. “Yes, Agent Weller, _we_. That is what I’m here for, after all. You keep coming to these sessions and talking to me, not just about what you’re going through right now, but about your history with Taylor as well, and I promise you, you’ll gain the perspective you need on this situation.”

“I should have known you had an ulterior motive for asking me about that,” Kurt grumbled. Simply to help him when Jane started regaining her memories indeed. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for that. Borden regarded him steadily, and he shrugged. “Fine. Where did I leave off?”

“You told me that you and Taylor came to an understanding, and the two of you got married before Emma Shaw passed away,” Borden prompted.

“Right.” Kurt blew out a breath. His wedding. An event he had ignorantly, blithely assumed would change nothing. God, what a fool he had been . . .

xxx

_Clearfield, Pennsylvania_

_January 2001_

Taylor was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights, and Kurt couldn’t help grinning at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words before

.” The laughter broke the ice, and when it finally died down, he reached over and gently covered her hand with his. “I know this is a lot to take in, so if you’d rather not consider it, or . . . or . . .”

“No!” Taylor interrupted, feeling an unaccustomed warmth spread up her arm from where he was touching her. “It’s not that, Kurt. I know what a huge sacrifice this will be for you, and I’ll probably take you up on it, if you’re sure you’re willing to go through with it, it’s just . . . Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the last person I ever thought I’d date, much less _marry._ ” Though she couldn’t honestly say the thought of the two of them as a couple hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d had a massive crush on him before he’d left for college, but time and distance had made that all but a distant memory.

Kurt’s lips quirked up in a smile. “I’m not sure there is a _right_ way to take that, brat.” He sobered quickly. “I’m in, Taylor. So I guess we’ve got a few things to figure out, huh?”

“I’d say more than a few,” she agreed wryly. “Like Mom said, I’m not very . . . domestic.”

Kurt laughed at her disgruntled expression. “Don’t worry, Taylor. I promise I’ll handle all the cooking. We can figure out how to divide up the rest of the chores later.” That was the least of their problems at the moment. “I think the most important thing right now is to figure out how things will work between—” He paused and took a deep breath. “Between us.”

Taylor nodded. “You told Mom you weren’t going to take advantage of the situation. I assume you meant that you don’t plan to have sex with me.”

Kurt’s face reddened at her frankness. “You did just say I was the last guy you saw yourself with,” he retorted. “Besides, you’re much too young to be thinking about stuff like that anyway.” Though come to think of it, the first girl he’d slept with had been Taylor’s age, and he hadn’t even been her first. He’d never been anyone’s first.

“I did say that,” Taylor allowed. Mostly because she’d thought some lucky woman would snap him up long before she was old enough to have a shot. “But I’m not a kid any longer, Kurt.” In fact, according to the adults who knew her, she was very mature for her age. Not that she’d had much choice in that; with her mom so sick, she’d been forced to grow up fast. “Several of the girls in my class have already—”

“Let’s just specify that sex is off the table between us,” Kurt interrupted hastily. “I think it would be best not to complicate things.” Not to mention, he’d just promised Emma Shaw he wouldn’t do so.

“Okay,” Taylor agreed, tamping down an unexpected surge of disappointment and not at all sure why she was feeling that way. Kurt was like a brother to her, after all. “So do you plan to see other women while we’re married? Because what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. Taylor had always been outspoken, but this level of bluntness was new, and he couldn’t help but admire how willing she was to advocate for her own interests. Judging from the faint blush staining her cheeks, this wasn’t any easier for her than it was for him. “Given what a small town this is, it would probably be best if we refrained from seeing other people while we’re married.” The last thing they needed was wagging tongues causing DHS to investigate the validity of their marriage. It would only be for a couple years, and he wasn’t looking to settle down at this point anyway.

And no matter what Taylor thought, she was much too young to be making such a monumental decision. She deserved for her first time to be with someone she could have a future with, someone who fully appreciated how special she was, not some loser in this backwoods town who could derail the bright future she had ahead of her. It was probably much better that they _were_ getting married, come to think of it. She was going to be especially vulnerable after her mother’s passing, and he would be better able to protect her from boys seeking to prey on that as her husband than merely her guardian.

They hashed out several more details before Kurt leaned back, satisfied. “Well, I think that about covers everything. If you want to go get your mom, we can—”

“Actually,” Taylor cut in hesitantly, “there’s one more thing we need to discuss. I, uh . . . I have a request.” Given how accommodating Kurt was being, she hated to impose on him further, but this was important to her. And she knew it would mean the world to her mother. “I know the marriage won’t be real, but I want . . . I’d like the wedding to be. I know it’s a lot to ask, but this will be my only chance to have my mom there for . . .”

Kurt’s heart ached as he tightened his grip on her hand. “It’s not too much to ask at all, Taylor.” The next time she got married—the only time she did so for real—her mom wouldn’t be there to meet the young man she had fallen in love with, to help pick out her dress, or walk her down the aisle. “It will be my honor to do that for you.”

Taylor smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Kurt.” He had always known just what to say to make her feel better. She was so incredibly thankful that he was choosing to be here for her now. She knew what a sacrifice he was making, and she would do everything in her power to make sure he never regretted it. She would be a good wife to him, albeit a temporary one.

“My pleasure, brat,” Kurt assured her. “Now, I think we should fill your mom in on what we’ve decided, and then go pick out an engagement ring for you.”

Taylor’s breath caught in her throat. “An . . . an engagement ring?” That hardly seemed necessary under the circumstances. “Kurt—”

“The full wedding experience, Taylor,” he reminded her gently before she could tell him it wasn’t necessary. He wanted every moment she and Emma had left together to be as magical as he could make it. It was the least he could do for his almost little sister—his fiancée now, he reminded himself—and the woman who had always been a second mother to him. He got up without relinquishing her hand and tugged her to her feet.

“You know,” Taylor mentioned as she let him lead her out of the room, “now that we’re getting married, you’re going to have to find a nickname for me other than ‘brat’.”

Kurt chuckled. “We’ll see.” He waited a beat before adding, “brat.”

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

“We were married three weeks after Taylor’s sixteenth birthday,” Kurt said softly.

“Hold on,” Borden interrupted before Kurt could continue. “What did your father and Sarah think of this plan?”

“They didn’t know.” Kurt shook his head a little at the memory. “Given my father’s . . . issues at the time, Emma and I agreed it would be best to keep them in the dark until right before the wedding. Taylor was unhappy about it, because she wanted Sarah to be her maid of honor, but once we figured out a way to make that happen, she went along with it. I returned to Clearfield the day before our wedding . . .”

xxx

_Clearfield, Pennsylvania_

_March 2001_

“Kurt!” Sarah exclaimed gleefully as her brother walked through the door of their father’s house. “This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you back until . . .” The next anniversary of their mother’s death, she started to say, but decided not to jinx it. His visits were entirely too infrequent, and she hoped his unexpected arrival heralded a new beginning for them all.

“Hey, Sarah,” Kurt greeted as he enveloped his sister in a hug. He had wanted to return for Taylor’s birthday three weeks ago, but they had all agreed that would be too obvious a sign that something was up, so he had dropped off his birthday present for her—a portable oil painting set—before making his way over here to break the news of their impending nuptials. “Is Dad . . . around?” _Awake_ and _sober_ were clearly implied.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied cautiously. Their father hadn’t had a drink in nearly twenty-four hours, but she couldn’t say it had improved his disposition. If anything, his mood had grown even more irascible without the alcohol. She had no idea how he would react to Kurt’s impromptu visit, but the tumultuous history between them didn’t bode well for the happy reunion she was hoping for. “But this might not be the best time to—”

“Sarah?” Bill Weller called. “Who’s here?”

Kurt brushed past her and followed the sound of his voice into the living room, Sarah trailing reluctantly behind him. His mouth tightened as he took in his father’s disheveled appearance. Some things never changed. He took a deep breath, recalling his promise to Emma and Taylor to be civil. He didn’t want anything to ruin tomorrow for them. “Hello, Dad.”

“Kurt!” Bill staggered to his feet. “It’s good to see you, son. What are you doing here?”

“I have something to tell you,” Kurt said evenly, trying not to flinch at his father’s use of the word _son._ He had never wished more than at this moment that he was someone else’s child. He forged ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, and get back to the Shaws. He would definitely be staying at a hotel tonight. “Taylor and I are engaged. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

Sarah started to laugh before the look on Kurt’s face registered, and she realized he wasn’t kidding. “Are you . . . You can’t be serious!” Taylor was barely sixteen. No way would Emma Shaw ever allow that. No sane parent would.

“I am. And we are.” Kurt took a deep breath. “Emma has given us her blessing.” Though that might be overstating things a bit. Sarah still didn’t know about her cancer diagnosis. He would share that with her privately later. “I’m going to finish out this semester, and then transfer to a college in Pittsburgh.” He would have graduated this year if he hadn’t delayed going to look out for Sarah until she turned eighteen. “We’ll be staying at her place.”

Sarah was just opening her mouth to ask him _why,_ try to make sense of what was going on, when their father spoke up. “Congratulations,” Bill sneered. “I’d say I wish you both the best, but to tell the truth, I’m looking forward to seeing how high-and-mighty you are after she breaks your heart and leaves you in the dust.” It was no more than his self-righteous son deserved, in his opinion. “You think you’re better than me, but you’ll wind up just like me soon enough.”

“I will _never_ be like you,” Kurt countered icily. His marriage to Taylor wasn’t a love match, but even if it were and she did betray him—which she wouldn’t—he would never take her loss out on the people closest to him. The people who shared that devastating loss and only wanted to help him through it. “I felt I owed it to you to let you know what I was doing, but you’re not invited to the wedding.”

“I wouldn’t have come anyway,” Bill interjected snidely.

“Sarah . . .” Kurt continued as if his father hadn’t spoken, turning to his sister, whose eyes were shimmering with tears. “I think it would be best if we continued this conversation elsewhere. Come with me to the Shaws?”

Sarah nodded wordlessly and followed him out the door, but she rounded on him as soon as they were out of earshot of the house. “What the hell is going on, Kurt?” she demanded. “And don’t try to bullshit me into believing that you spent a few hours with Taylor when you were here last month and suddenly couldn’t live without her. She’s _sixteen,_ for god’s sake. What the hell is Emma thinking, allowing this?”

“The cancer’s back. She’s dying, Sarah,” Kurt said quietly, drawing his sister close as shock, then anguish played across her face and tears filled her eyes. She loved Emma Shaw just as much as he did. Maybe even more, since Emma and Taylor had been a lifeline for her while he was away at college. He hoped now that he was moving back home, he could convince her to start looking out for her own future. Sarah was too bright to waste away in this backwater town looking after a drunk her whole life.

“No!” Sarah wailed, burying her face in Kurt’s shoulder and soaking his shirt with her tears. How was she going to survive without Emma around to talk to when things got tough? How was _Taylor?_ “How long . . .” Her voice was shaking as she drew back, and she took a deep breath to steady it. “How long does she have left?”

“Her doctors think a couple months, at best.” Kurt was hoping she could hold on until he finished this semester, but privately he suspected she had much less time than that. Emma was still putting on a good face to the outside world, but he had been shocked by how rapidly she had declined in the five weeks he had been away. He was surprised Sarah hadn’t picked up on it, but from the looks of things at home, she’d had more than enough on her plate to distract her from noticing. “I’m not so sure. I’m thinking I may need to come home before the semester’s over and make it up later.”

“Kurt, no.” Sarah frowned at him as she struggled to process this information. “You’ve worked too hard to do that.” He would no doubt lose a few credits in the transfer, and he was already two years behind because of her as it was. She was more than happy to repay that sacrifice now. “Look, New York’s only a couple hours away, so you can come home on weekends, and I’ll stay with Taylor if need be until you finish this year.” She smiled at his dumbfounded look. “That is why you’re marrying her, right? To keep her out of foster care?”

“Yeah,” Kurt admitted. “I offered to be her guardian, but Emma didn’t think the state would let me have custody of her, and there was no way I was going to let Taylor wind up with strangers or in some group home somewhere. She deserves better than that, Sarah.”

“I know,” Sarah agreed carefully, “but _marrying_ her, Kurt? Have you really thought this through? It’s an awfully big commitment.” A lifetime commitment, according to the religion she still clung to, and he had turned his back on. She could bet it wasn’t going to be a church wedding. But it would still change his life in ways she knew neither of them could imagine at this point in time. Even if it wasn’t an actual marriage.

“It’s just for two years, Sarah,” Kurt assured her, refusing to acknowledge the vague trepidation that accompanied any thought of that commitment, and his sister simply nodded as she fell into step beside him, and they headed to the Shaws. He and Taylor had a game plan in place, and they were good enough friends to weather any differences that arose and go their separate ways when the time came. This wouldn’t change his life in any significant way.

The first hint he had of how wrong he was came when he glimpsed Taylor walking down the aisle of the wedding chapel on her mother’s arm toward him. He had never even seen her dressed up before, and she was an absolute vision in that flowing white sundress with her hair carefully styled and just a hint of makeup on her face. His mouth went dry as Emma placed her hand in his and then covered both of theirs with hers, squeezing gently before stepping back and taking her seat. Taylor’s fingers trembled slightly in his as they turned to face the justice of the peace, and he tightened his grip reassuringly.

The rest of the ceremony was a bit of a blur as he and Taylor pledged their lives to one another, and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before turning to greet their few guests. Several of Emma’s good friends had come, as well as a few of Taylor’s favorite teachers. Sarah had stood up for Taylor, and a buddy of his from high school had done the honors for him, but all in all, it was a sparse wedding crowd. Not at all the occasion Emma and Taylor should have had the opportunity to enjoy.

He glanced down at his new wife as they headed toward the exit. “You clean up pretty nice, br—Taylor,” he amended in deference to her new status. He would have to get to work finding a new nickname for her.

Color stained her cheeks at the compliment. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” The last time she had seen him in a tux—at his senior prom—had sparked a major crush. Thankfully, she was much more mature now. Although her heart had skipped a beat when she first laid eyes on him.

Kurt chuckled. “I can’t wait to get out of this thing,” he confided. “What do you say we change back into comfortable clothes, and go grab a bite to eat? I’ll even let you pick the place. My treat.”

“Sounds good,” Taylor said archly. “See? You’re learning to be a dutiful husband already. I’ll have you trained for the next Mrs. Weller in no time.” She sauntered away to her dressing room to the sound of deafening silence.

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

“She sounds like quite a character,” Borden said with a smile. Small wonder that Agent Weller had fallen in love with her. It was a pity that she had left him. He had a feeling that the two of them had enjoyed life much more together than apart.

“She was,” Kurt agreed with a reluctant smile of his own. Compassionate and stubborn and feisty and opinionated were only a few of the adjectives he’d use to describe her. And _fun_ , of course. Even her mother’s death hadn’t dimmed the light within her. But whatever had happened to her in the intervening years had certainly done so. His smile faded. “I—” His phone buzzed and he glanced down. Mayfair wanted to see him. Immediately. “I’ve got to go, Doc. Same time, same place, on Wednesday?”

“I’ll be here,” Borden confirmed, but he was already talking to an empty room. Agent Weller had taken his leave with his customary haste.

Kurt’s steps slowed as he approached his boss’s office. She hadn’t said what she wanted, but experience had taught him that being called on the carpet first thing in the morning was never good. And his instincts were right on the money in this case.

“I hear you had Jane over for dinner,” Mayfair said without preamble as soon as Kurt entered her office.

“Yeah,” Kurt said, stiffening slightly even though he had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. At least in that instance. He had tried to avert that catastrophe. “It was my sister’s idea.” One he was fairly certain she wouldn’t be suggesting they repeat any time soon.

“How worried do I have to be about your objectivity on this case?” Mayfair demanded. She might not be able to take him off the case, but she would close it so fast his head would spin if he couldn’t keep his emotions in check.

“You don’t. It was a family dinner.” A family Taylor had once been the heart and soul of. “My . . . my nephew was there. It was nothing inappropriate.” Unlike what had passed between them last night. Fortunately, Borden was helping him to get a handle on that. He intended to begin treating Jane like a boss rather than her long-lost friend immediately.

Mayfair blew out a breath. “I’m speaking generally. Normally, your judgment is beyond reproach, but with her . . .”

“Look,” Kurt interrupted. “We all know that this is . . . an unusual situation.” To put it mildly.

“Which is why I need to know that you’re rock solid out there. That you’re seeing things clearly.” She had already lost one good agent for the foreseeable future and possibly permanently. She didn’t need anyone else she cared about getting hurt or killed chasing down the ghosts this case presented. _Weller_ didn’t need that on his conscience.

Kurt met her gaze squarely. “I am.” He would be. Even if he had to meet with Borden every damn day to accomplish it. Mayfair’s look was frankly skeptical, and he sighed. Her lack of trust stung, even if it was well-deserved. “What more do you want me to say? I am doing everything you asked of me when you agreed to let me take over this case. What’s changed all of the sudden?”

She’d seen the way he’d looked at Jane in that interrogation room. The way he had looked at her every day, every moment, since. He was still in love with her, though she didn’t think he recognized that yet. But it was only a matter of time. “Nothing. Nothing’s changed.” She decided a change of subject was in order. “Have you had any luck remembering the name of Taylor’s college roommate yet?”

To be honest, he hadn’t given it a thought in the chaos of the past week. “I’m working on it.”

“Well, work harder,” Mayfair advised. “Girls that age often confide in one another, and that’s the last thread we have to pull to find out what she was up to back then. Absent that . . .”

She didn’t complete the sentence, but she didn’t need to. Absent that, they knew no more now than they had the night he’d laid eyes on Taylor again. “Yes, ma’am,” he said as he exited the office and went in search of Jane.

It was time he started proving to himself that she was just another one of his employees.


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

She had made a fool of herself. Jane’s cheeks burned at the memory of how quickly Kurt had run out of here last night when she’d told him he was her starting point, and she yanked her shirt on with more haste than finesse. Clearly, she’d completely misread the situation, mistook his concern for interest in her. And that dream this morning . . .

Her blush intensified as she recalled the intimate direction her thoughts had taken in slumber. Had she been dreaming of Kurt? She didn’t know who else it could have been, but she didn’t know what would have triggered it. Kurt certainly hadn’t given her any encouragement in that department. He’d fled like she had the plague, in fact.

What had caused the rift between them all those years ago? Jane wondered for the umpteenth time as she shrugged into her jacket and headed out to meet her detail. Whatever it was, she was beginning to believe it was much more serious than she had initially assumed.

And she wanted more than anything to rectify it.

But how could she do that when she didn’t even know what had happened? Jane posed that question to Borden in her session, but his answer wasn’t exactly encouraging. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do at this point, Jane. Even if Agent Weller were to share the cause of your falling out, you would still have no memories of those events to explain or defend your actions.” He frowned slightly. “Has he said something to make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No!” Jane blurted out. She softened her tone at Borden’s surprised look. “No, he hasn’t said much at all about that.” Or any of their past, really. Of course, the one time she might have gotten answers, she’d run out on him. “He’s been very kind. It’s just . . . I can’t explain it, but I felt . . . connected to him somehow the very first time I saw him, and I don’t think it’s just because we were childhood friends.” It felt like something more, something deeper, something right on the edge of recall but as yet unreachable.

Which brought up another point that had been increasingly bothering her of late. “Don’t you think it’s odd that I instantly remembered the man who was shot in my safe house, but Weller’s face hasn’t triggered one memory? I mean, we . . . we grew up together. It seems like I would be able to recall _something_ about a guy I knew for over half my life.” It didn’t make sense, and she finally gave voice to the question that had been plaguing her recently. “Do you think it’s possible that I’m _not_ Taylor Shaw? That the reason I’m not remembering Kurt is because I just look like her, and I never knew him?”

“No, not at all,” Borden instantly reassured her. “Quite the opposite, actually. You said you felt an instant connection with him; I don’t think you would have done so if he was in fact a stranger.” He leaned forward. “The brain is a complex organ, Jane; there’s no exact science for how or if a person with amnesia will regain their memories, even under more normal circumstances. Perhaps the memories you’re recalling are more recent, and you will eventually recall the more distant past, or . . .” He hesitated. “It’s possible that the ZIP may have erased those memories so completely that you’ll never regain them. Since medical science has never had a case like yours before, it’s impossible to say what the long-term effects will be.”

Jane nodded slowly. The prospect of never remembering her shared history with Kurt was not one she wanted to contemplate at the moment. “I had a dream last night,” she mentioned in order to change the subject, her cheeks burning as she articulated some of the details.

Borden kept his blank face firmly in place with an effort as he listened. It definitely sounded now as if Jane’s earlier fears were unfounded. The man in her dream might well be Weller, and if it was, if she recalled more detail and realized it was him or saw the wedding band on her hand . . . This could blow up in all their faces in a big way. He bit back a sigh. There was nothing he could do about that now. These sessions were confidential, and they couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them. “It sounds as if you’ve had a breakthrough.”

“A breakthrough?” Jane echoed in disbelief. “It was a _dream._ ”

“Your first dream,” Borden returned. “Which you considered significant enough to mention to me. “A sex dream.”

Jane looked away as she swallowed back a surge of embarrassment. Borden had told her from the very beginning that nothing was off-limits in these sessions, and it was certainly nothing to be ashamed of talking about. She met Borden’s eyes again. “So what does it mean?”

“That depends on who you ask,” Borden told her. “Most people believe that dreams are the brain’s way of processing how we feel about things.” He paused for a second as Jane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So who do you think he was? This dream man?”

Things? Or people? Jane held Borden’s gaze for a long moment before glancing away briefly. “Umm . . . something tells me you have a theory.” And she had a pretty good idea what that was as something flickered in Borden’s eyes. “What, you think it’s Weller?”

“You said that, not me,” Borden countered. But the fact that her mind had gone there so readily made him wonder if her subconscious was starting to connect the dots. Or perhaps she was simply still attracted to him. Either way, it might not be a bad idea for him to urge Mayfair to reconsider her decision before it was too late.

He may not have said it, but it was abundantly clear that’s what he was thinking. But there was one big problem with that theory. “No. No, I just . . . No.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “That guy had a tattoo of a tree on his arm, and Weller doesn’t have that.”

“Dreams aren’t literal. They’re impressionistic,” Borden explained. “Your body is covered in tattoos, symbols you don’t understand. Now you described it as a tree with deep roots. Maybe you’re searching for stability. Strength. Those are certainly qualities that Agent Weller seems to project.” Especially since she’d once found both of those in him.

But for the moment, it might be best if she attempted to find them in _herself._ “Your relationship with Agent Weller is . . . complicated.” More than she knew. “He’s your colleague. Your protector.” _Your former husband and lover._ “Your childhood friend.”

“Yeah,” Jane fired back. “And now he’s in my dreams. He’s everywhere.” And as much as his presence made her feel safe, it was also making her feel a bit smothered at the moment.

“Maybe you need to establish clearer boundaries,” Borden suggested. He’d had limited chances to watch her and Weller interact, but on the occasions he had, they’d reminded him of a married couple who were estranged but still loved each other very much. It was a dangerous pattern to fall into given the circumstances.

“How do I do that?” Jane asked. Kurt was the one link she had to her past, after all, a past she still very much wanted to hear about. And she didn’t want to hurt him again when he was being so kind to her, in spite of whatever had happened between them.

“To start, try keeping your interactions with him limited to a professional context.” Perhaps taking a step back now and gaining some perspective would lessen the inevitable implosion when— _if—_ her memory returned, though he doubted it. “At least for now.”

That was easier said than done. “Right,” Jane muttered, wishing he would give her some guidelines on how, exactly she was supposed to do that without hurting Kurt in the process and alienating him once again. And leaving herself friendless once more.

Though it quickly became abundantly clear that she needn’t have worried about that. She left Borden’s office with more questions than answers, as was the norm for her these days, and the day only went downhill from there. First, Kurt snapped at her for having her holster in the wrong position, and then he chastised her for attempting to forge a connection with Ana.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he made it clear that he was doing everything in his power to regain his objectivity regarding her. To put some space between them where none had existed before. It felt like they had just taken a huge step backwards in their relationship, and she was at a loss to understand why. What she had done to cause this shift in his attitude toward her.

Kurt could see the confusion, the hurt, in Jane’s eyes, and he longed to take back his harsh words, but Mayfair’s blistering rebuke was still ringing in his own ears. Not that her censure had been necessary for him to recognize that he needed to regain his objectivity, and quickly, if he had any hope of surviving this with his heart intact. That was why he had voluntarily confided in Borden this morning.

They wrapped the case up quickly—or so they thought—and Jane walked Ana to the elevator, pleased when the young woman agreed to consider taking in a movie with her after refusing her offer of a ride or coffee. She braced herself for a fight when Kurt approached her as the elevator doors slid closed, looking like a thundercloud. “Can I talk to you?”

As if she had a choice, Jane thought bitterly as she followed him into a deserted corridor. Why was it so wrong for her to have _one_ friend outside of this place? Especially since he was making it increasingly clear that he no longer wanted to be one.

“Was I not clear before?” Kurt ground out. “That is _not_ how we do things.”

Jane glared at him. “Well, maybe you do things wrong. Ana didn’t open up until I showed her a little compassion.” The same sort of compassion he had displayed to her—until today. “And her opening up saved lives.”

“The case is finished,” Kurt fired back, “and what, you’re inviting her to a movie?” That was a mistake none of his other agents would be foolish enough to make. If she wanted to be treated like one of them, she needed to start acting like one.

“She is completely alone in this world, and she needs _something_ in her life other than her work.” Jane’s words reflected her feelings about herself as much as Ana. She hadn’t realized until this moment just how much that was true. Her relationship with Kurt had filled that void, but she needed something more, something wholly unconnected with this place, these _people._

Kurt’s eyes softened as he gazed down at her. He was making a mountain out of a molehill in this case, and he knew it. Ana Montes was no threat to her, or anyone else. Maintaining a professional distance didn’t mean he had to be an ass. “Jane . . . Jane, if you ever want to come and have a drink with the team—”

“No,” Jane interrupted hastily. “I . . . It’s a little hard to relax when everybody at the table has been staring at photos of your tattooed body all day.” She knew he meant well, but he couldn’t possibly understand what that was like. How vulnerable it made her feel.

He could only imagine how she would feel if she knew he had done a great deal more to her body than just look at pictures of it. “What about Sarah?” Kurt suggested. His sister might not be thrilled to go out with Jane, but she had a big heart. He knew she would do it if he asked.

“Your sister?” Jane was incredulous that he would even suggest such a thing. “Her last name is on my back, and we had a falling out for reasons I can’t even begin to guess at.” She glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes once more. “None of this feels real, Kurt. I even asked Borden today if he thought it was possible that I wasn’t Taylor Shaw after all.”

“ _What?”_ Kurt was stunned. Sure, he’d had a few moments of doubt, particularly given that he didn’t trigger any recollection for her when they’d made so many memories together, but he’d never seriously entertained that alternative. Jane was Taylor. End of story.

“It’s just . . .” Jane paused to collect her thoughts, desperate to explain herself, to make him understand. “You’ve told me I’m Taylor, and I . . . I feel a connection with you, but I don’t have any proof that I _am_ her. I look at you, and I see a man who was a stranger to me a week ago. I look at _myself_ in the mirror, and I see a woman who’s a stranger to me still. I don’t have anything to connect me to our past, Kurt.”

She took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me, everything that you’re doing, but I just . . . I don’t know, I . . . I need room to breathe.” She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning and walking away, and headed straight to Borden’s office to discuss the day’s events with him.

Kurt watched her go in stunned silence. This was the first time that Jane had let her guard down enough to be truly honest about what she was going through, and he was stunned at what she had revealed in that glimpse behind the curtain. There had to be a way to help her, to make her feel more secure in her very identity, and he was determined to find it.

Soon enough, the case demanded his attention once again, but the problem remained in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the day. He sat on his couch that night pondering what to do about it as he nursed his glass of scotch.

“Rough day?” Sarah asked softly as she took a seat next to her brother. She hadn’t seen Kurt look this out of sorts since . . . well, since Taylor had left him. Which didn’t bode well for whatever was going on now. It didn’t take a psychic to know that whatever it was had to do with her.

“I’ve had better,” Kurt admitted wearily. He hesitated and then related what Jane had said to him earlier. “I thought I had an inkling of how difficult this was for her, but now I realize I didn’t have a clue. I want to help her somehow, I just . . .” He hadn’t figured out _how_ yet. Worse, he suspected his attitude today would make her even more reluctant to accept his help. She hadn’t even been willing to let him drive her home tonight.

“She wants proof that she is who you say she is?” Sarah asked. “Give her something tangible.”

“Something tangible?” Kurt repeated. “Like what?” The only mementos he had left of their life together weren’t exactly things he could present to Jane as proof she was who he said she was—not as long as he was lying to her about the exact nature of their relationship. Not even if he wasn’t.

Sarah hesitated. “I, uh . . . I know you didn’t want any reminders of Taylor after she . . . _after,_ ” she amended hastily, “but she was a part of our lives for so long that I just couldn’t bring myself to part with all of them. I have several boxes of pictures that we could go through, and pick out some for you to give to her. It might help to actually be able to _see_ herself.”

“I think it would help a lot.” Kurt felt a surge of excitement that there was finally something he could _do,_ that he had a game plan to fix this problem. “That’s perfect, Sarah. Do you . . . are the photos here?”

“Yep.” Sarah led Kurt into the closet in her bedroom and pointed out the boxes for him to pull down off the shelf. By unspoken agreement, they placed them on the kitchen counter and sat down side-by-side to begin sorting through them, taking care to weed out any that showed Taylor’s wedding band or gave the impression that she and Kurt were a couple, laughing at the memories they contained as they went.

“Hey, Sarah,” Kurt said as they got closer to the time when Taylor had left him, recalling Mayfair’s question from earlier in the day, “do you happen to recall Taylor’s roommate from back then?”

“Sure I do,” Sarah responded promptly. “Lida Carras. I spent the day with her and Taylor once, remember? When I came to visit you back in ’06. I think I laughed more that day than I had in my entire life. She was a real riot. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Kurt said as casually as he could manage. He would start searching for this Lida Carras tomorrow. It was an unusual name, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to track her down. Normally, he would ask Patterson to do it, but given his personal connection to this woman, it was one task he would need to undertake himself. Not that he minded in this instance. It would provide a welcome distraction from the upcoming meeting with his father Sarah had used her help last night to leverage him into agreeing to.

Unfortunately, that search had to be pushed to the back burner once more. He arrived at work eager to present Jane with those photographs before getting started, but she hadn’t gotten in yet, and Patterson texted Mayfair after their chat about Guerrero to let them know she had decoded the turtle shell tattoo. They were halfway to Michigan before he remembered he hadn’t started the search on his computer before he left as he’d intended to.

He kept an eye on Jane during the flight. Flying had always unnerved her, and that was yet another thing that hadn’t changed. More than once, he’d had to resist the urge to change seats with Zapata and comfort her. That wasn’t his job any longer, he continually reminded himself. Zapata could reassure her just as well as he could.

He was even more thankful he’d stuck to his guns when Zapata questioned his professionalism on their trek through the woods. “I trust your training,” he told her when she mentioned that Jane had volunteered for this mission as well. “Jane’s still a wild card.” Not so very long ago, he’d had to bribe her to go to the gun range with him, and now she was more lethal than he would ever be. That transformation grew more troubling to him with every day that passed. What the hell had happened to her? he wondered again.

“Is that really why I’m here, and she’s not?” Zapata asked, doing her best to keep the skepticism out of her voice. She _knew_ why she was here, even if Weller was oblivious to it.

“You got something to say, just say it.” Kurt had known this confrontation was coming for a while now. Zapata was far too outspoken to be as silent to him about Jane as she had been since their team took over her case.

“You’re protecting her.” Zapata turned back to look at Weller. “She’s more than just an old friend to you.” She wasn’t sure if he'd simply had unrequited feelings for Jane, or if they’d once been a couple, but there was definitely something there. “It is one thing if you won’t admit it. It is something else if you don’t even know it.” If he didn’t recognize that the feelings he had for her weren’t a thing of the past.

Oh, he knew it all right. He just didn’t know what to do about it. Kurt held Zapata’s gaze for a long moment until she turned away, apparently satisfied that she had said what she needed to, and he would consider it. As if he hadn’t already been doing that. Zapata had no idea just how on the mark her words were. Borden had made it sound easy to maintain his professionalism over his friendship with Jane, but he was beginning to think there was too much baggage between them for him to do so. And he was less and less certain that he wanted to. Jane clearly needed a friend right now, and he very much wanted to be there for her.

He made a point of sitting with her on the flight back, retrieving the box full of pictures he'd had the foresight to bring with him before taking the seat across from her. Hopefully, it would provide a welcome distraction from her fear of flying. And her first words to him confirmed he had made the right decision.

Jane gripped the armrests tightly as turbulence shook the plane, but she relaxed slightly as she met Kurt’s warm gaze. She was so glad he had chosen to sit with her on the return trip. Somehow his presence always made her calmer. “When we were separated in the woods, I kept thinking about you,” she admitted. “And me. And Taylor Shaw. We’re in this together.”

_“We’re in this together, Taylor,” Kurt reassured his normally fearless tomboy of a wife as turbulence shook the plane once more, gently prying her hand loose from its white-knuckled grip on the armrest between them and sandwiching it between his own. “The pilots are in control, and I’m right here with you. We’re much safer in this plane than we would be driving cross-country to California, I promise you.”_

_Though if he had known how much it would upset her, he would gladly have taken that road trip. He would do anything in his power to keep her from being as afraid as she was now. “Come here,” he said softly as she continued to regard him with terror-filled eyes, smiling as she moved into his embrace without hesitation. He wrapped an arm tightly around her and pulled her head down until it rested on his chest, hoping the comfort he offered would distract her for the rest of the flight. It was certainly distracting him . . ._

The plane shook again, causing Jane to freeze up and take several shaky breaths, and Kurt smiled as he leaned forward, covering her hands with his. He couldn’t believe she was still this terrified, not after what she had done today. “How can you fly a chopper out of a combat zone . . . and still be scared of a little turbulence?”

Jane’s heart started racing for an entirely different reason as he held her hands firmly in his grip. “I think it’s got something to do with being in control.”

Kurt’s mouth quirked as he gave a slight nod, even more thankful that he’d thought to bring a distraction. “I can’t let you fly the plane, but maybe this will keep you occupied.” He pulled the box off the seat beside him and set it on the table in front of Jane.

Jane regarded it warily. “What is that?”

Kurt chuckled. “Why don’t you open it and see?”

Jane hesitantly pulled the lid off the box and gasped as she caught sight of its contents. Dozens of photos—hundreds, maybe—of her at various stages throughout her life. The one on top was of a younger her sitting next to a beaming Sarah holding an infant gingerly. “Is that . . .”

“That’s you with Sawyer when he was a few days old,” Kurt confirmed, laughing a little at the expression on her face. “You were such a tomboy I think that was the first time you’d ever held a baby. You were terrified you’d break him.”

Jane pulled another photo from the box at random. “What about this one?”

Kurt hesitated as he glanced at it. “That’s . . . that’s you with your mom. That was actually the last picture ever taken of the two of you, the week before she . . .” He trailed off, but it wasn’t really necessary to finish the sentence; he could see that Jane understood. “Look, Jane . . . You said yesterday that you didn’t feel like Taylor Shaw, that all you saw when you looked in the mirror was a stranger. I know these pictures won’t replace the memories you’ve lost, but I hope they’ll help you to feel more . . . connected to your past.” To their past. Though god help him if one of those pictures triggered a memory that helped her to recall that past. He was going to have a lot to explain when she did finally remember. At least he appeared to have succeeded in his goal to distract her.

Jane’s eyes glimmered with tears. “Thanks, Kurt,” she said quietly. She replaced that picture in the box and plucked out one of them as teenagers. “Tell me about this one.”

He was more than happy to oblige, and the two of them quickly became so engrossed in what they were doing that they didn’t even notice when the plane touched down in New York.


	12. Chapter 12

I do not own Blindspot or its characters.

* * *

 

Kurt would have given anything to have been able to take Jane up on her drink offer tonight. His steps slowed as he approached the door to his apartment. He had promised Sarah that he would meet with their father, but he couldn’t deny that he was hoping a work emergency would cut it short. His sister was an incurable optimist, and he knew she had the best of intentions, but the rift between him and their father wasn’t one that could be fixed. Not after what that bastard had done. Had tried to do.

Hopefully, Sarah would realize that soon and end this pointless crusade to bring them back together. Kurt sighed as he walked inside and dropped his keys on the table by the door. His father and Sarah were seated at the dining room table, but his father stood as he approached. “Hello, son.”

He attempted to embrace him, but Kurt stepped back. “Hello, Bill,” he said coldly. The days when he would call this man _dad_ were long gone. He wouldn’t compromise his principles to appease his sister no matter how close to death their father was. But he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish his memory in her eyes either. Even if he hadn’t promised not to do that, the truth was irrelevant at this point.

“Kurt,” Sarah pleaded softly. She couldn’t understand her brother’s unrelenting hatred for their dad. They’d both been affected by his alcoholism, but she had been the one to suffer the most, and she had managed to lay the past aside and forge a relationship with him. Adding to her frustration was the fact that she suspected that despite his denials, her dad knew _exactly_ what had led to their estrangement but stubbornly continued to deny any knowledge of it. How did he expect her to make peace between them in the short time he had left when he wouldn’t tell her what had caused the rift in the first place?

“It’s good to see you again,” Bill said with a weak smile as Kurt took the seat next to Sarah. He’d had doubts that his son would even show up to this meeting, so he hadn’t given too much thought to what he would say. Judging from Kurt’s stony glare, that lack of preparation was not going to work in his favor.

“I came to this meeting out of respect for Sarah,” Kurt said stiffly. “Not because I had any desire to see you again. So why don’t you just say your piece, and _go?”_ He’d mourned the loss of the father he thought he had years ago, right along with his mom. The pain of his actual death would pale in comparison to the hurt he had heaped on them with his emotional abandonment and abuse. At least in his book. Not to mention . . .

“Kurt!” Sarah said sharply. Their dad was an invited guest here, and he had agreed to hear him out. The least he could do was be civil as he did so.

“It’s okay, Sarah,” Bill said, throwing her a long-suffering look that made Kurt’s blood boil. His father had his innocent victim act down to an art form. Heck, he would have been fooled if he hadn’t seen with his own two eyes what the man really was. “I understand Kurt is upset with me, and he has every right to be. I wasn’t there for the two of you the way you deserved when you needed me most.”

His father knew good and well that wasn’t what had kept them apart all these years, but Kurt let it slide. This meeting would be over all the quicker if he continued to feign ignorance and shirk responsibility for his actions. “Yeah, well, I stopped needing you a long time ago. So why are you here now?”

“I thought . . . I’d like for us to let bygones be bygones,” Bill told him. “To be a family again for what little time I’ve got left. Sarah mentioned that Taylor’s back in your life, and you seemed to be working through your issues with her. I was hoping if you were willing to do that for her, after all she put you through, you’d be willing to extend me the same courtesy. I’ll even apologize to her if you’d like.”

“Not a chance,” Kurt told him coldly. There was no way in hell he was letting his father within a mile of her ever again. The one advantage he could see to her amnesia was that she couldn’t remember what he had done.

“Apologize? To Taylor?” Sarah frowned. “For what? What does she have to do with this? Dad?” she asked when Bill’s gaze fell to the table as her eyes searched his. “What are you talking about? What did you _do?”_ Her voice rose an octave on the last word. She glanced at Kurt, but he continued to regard their father in stony silence, clearly determined to make him own up to his own misdeeds.

“Dad?” she asked again, her voice little more than a whisper as a dreadful suspicion crossed her mind. _“Tell_ me.”

Bill’s eyes were red-rimmed as he met his daughter’s gaze once more. “You have to understand, Sarah. I was drunk all the time back then. I wasn’t thinking clearly, or I never would have . . . I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sorry for _what?”_ Sarah demanded. “Tell me. Tell me what you did. I deserve to know.” Kurt should have come clean years ago. She appreciated his attempts to try to protect her, but keeping her in the dark had never been the right way to do that. She deserved to make up her own mind.

“I came on to Taylor,” Bill confessed. “The year after she and Kurt got married. I—”

“And by came on to her, he means tried to force himself on her,” Kurt interrupted harshly as Sarah gasped. “And no doubt would have succeeded, if I hadn’t happened to come home from college early that day.” Taylor had known some self-defense moves, but his father had lulled her into a false sense of security by offering to help her carry the groceries inside and by the time she realized the danger she was in, it had been too late: her slight form had been no match for his father’s bulk once he had her pinned. “I walked in to find him on top of her on the couch.”

Fortunately, he had arrived before it had gone any further than that, but Taylor had had nightmares for months afterwards. All too often, he had found himself coming in to wake her from them and spending the remainder of the night in her bed holding her because she was too frightened to go back to sleep alone. That had become a special brand of hell once he acknowledged his growing feelings for her.

“No . . .” Sarah’s eyes were filled with a mixture of tears and contempt as she looked at the man she had always loved despite his many shortcomings. “Dad . . . how _could_ you? Taylor loved you like a daughter. She was Kurt’s _wife._ ”

“Like I said . . . I was drunk at the time,” Bill said defensively. “And it’s not as if she was _really_ Kurt’s wife at the time. I’m not stupid. I know the two of them only got married to keep her out of foster care.”

“The point is, I _married_ her,” Kurt retorted with barely restrained fury. “So she was _absolutely_ my wife. I may not have been sleeping with her then, but I did love her.” And knowing how close his father had come to being her unwilling first had given _him_ nightmares. It had comforted him just as much as it had Taylor to be able to hold her close on those nights when her bad dreams caused her to cry out. Because his own had awakened him first.

“And she broke your heart,” Bill shot back, knowing he was digging a deeper hole for himself but unable to stop. “Just like I said she would. I even told that government guy that when he came around asking questions a couple months before she left you.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt’s eyes blazed hotly as he met his father’s gaze. “What government guy? What agency was he with? What kind of questions was he asking?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t remember his name, or if he said what agency he worked for.” He’d been fairly drunk that day as well. “But he was definitely a government employee. Typical self-righteous asshole in a cheap suit.” He cast his son a pointed glance. “He pretended to be interested in you and Taylor, but what he really wanted to know about was Emma. What I knew about her life before she moved to Clearfield, stuff like that.”

“And I’m sure you were more than happy to fill him in,” Kurt said icily. Not that his father had actually _known_ much, but that undoubtedly hadn’t stopped him from speculating. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to fill me in on what was going on.”

“And how would I have done that?” Bill asked sharply. “You’d cut off contact with me years ago, you and Taylor both, and even Sarah only spoke to me occasionally at that point. By the time she did call, I had forgotten all about it. Besides, I didn’t know that anything _was_ going on. Whatever this guy’s interest in Emma Shaw, she had been dead for _years_ by that point. What difference would it have made?

Perhaps none. But his gut was telling him differently, that this visit so close to Taylor’s disappearance was significant. Or perhaps . . . Kurt’s eyes narrowed as he studied his father. “And you made no attempt to see or speak with Taylor afterwards?” Given his current uncertainty about Taylor’s motives for ending their marriage and his father’s actions in the past, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that something he had said or done had caused her to run.

“I never saw or spoke to Taylor again after that day at the house,” Bill hastily assured Kurt. “You made it very clear what would happen to me if I did.” After he had blackened his eye and thrown several punches that left him aching for days. And then added insult to injury by literally tossing him out of the house on his ass.

Kurt nodded. His father was worthless scum, in his opinion, but he believed him in this instance. Mostly because he hadn’t known where they were living at that time, and he was too drunk and lazy to make the effort to find them. Especially knowing doing so could land him in jail. “Could you describe this man to a sketch artist?”

Bill shook his head slowly. “I doubt it. That was a long time ago, and the guy wore a hat and sunglasses the whole time. And like I said, I was—”

“Drunk,” Kurt finished for him. “Yeah. I get it.” It sounded as if the man had made a deliberate effort to obscure his identity, but it was frustrating that yet another potential lead had just as quickly turned into a dead end.

“What difference does it make?” Bill demanded. “Emma Shaw is dead. Taylor may be back in your life now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she left you for another man. How can you forgive her for her transgression, but still hold mine against me?”

Sarah had been quiet through much of this discussion, but she couldn’t let that slide. “Are you _seriously_ comparing Taylor’s committing adultery with your attempting to _rape_ her?” she burst out. Taylor’s actions were reprehensible, sure, but they couldn’t even begin to compare with what her father had done. She had been little more than a child at the time, albeit technically a married one.

“Of course not,” Bill muttered shamefacedly, hastily backing down in the face of Sarah’s outrage. The last thing he could afford was to alienate the one living relative he had who would still speak to him. He didn’t want to die alone.

“Good,” Kurt said in a hard voice. “Because as far as I’ve been able to determine, there was no other man. It’s looking more and more likely that that was just a cover story to keep me from ever looking for her. She disappeared without a trace the moment the divorce was finalized.” He leaned forward, fixing his father with a steely glare. “And if I find out you were in _any_ way responsible for that, you’d better pray the cancer has already killed you, because god help me, I don’t care how long you have left, I will find a way to lock your ass up. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal,” Bill said quietly, his hopes of a reconciliation with Kurt going up in smoke. Well, he’d always known it was a longshot. “But just for the record, I had _nothing_ to do with it. And I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you and her. I hope you can both find it in your hearts to forgive me someday.” He turned to his daughter. “Sarah—”

“I think you’d better just go for now, Dad,” Sarah told him. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.” _If_ she was ever ready to talk. She didn’t speak again until the door closed behind him. “Kurt . . .” She hardly knew what to say to her brother. “You really think there’s a chance Taylor didn’t . . . cheat on you?”

Kurt sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “More than a chance. I’m ninety-nine percent certain of it. You know what my first reaction was when I read her letter? That it was a joke.” If only he had listened to that gut instinct then. “You said the same thing when I told you. That it went against everything we’d ever known of Taylor.” He couldn’t believe that he had allowed his jealousy to so blind him to the truth before him. To the very character of the woman he had loved more than life itself.”

“So why do you think she did it then?” Sarah asked softly. “I mean, if you’re right, I get that she must have thought she was protecting us from _something,_ but do you think it had to do with Emma’s past, or did she somehow get mixed up in something she shouldn’t? What could have been so bad that she would choose to confess to adultery rather than come to you for help? I know she loved you, and you’re a _cop,_ for god’s sake. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Welcome to my world,” Kurt said with a rueful smile. “Every rock we turn over just leads to more questions and no answers.” He sighed, and it sounded like it came from the heels of his shoes. “I don’t know what to do any more, Sarah.”

“Kurt . . .” Sarah’s heart ached for her brother, and she covered his hand with hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “As an extremely biased observer, can I give you some less-than-impartial advice?”

Kurt couldn’t help but chuckle at her words. “After that lead-in, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Not that his refusal would have stopped her anyway.

“You can’t turn back the hands of time, Kurt,” Sarah told him softly. “You’ll only be setting yourself up for disappointment if you try.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” Sarah struggled to order her thoughts. “It’s pretty clear to me that you still have feelings for Ta—Jane, and I think you’re smart enough to have realized that as well. But as much as I didn’t like it at first, you did the right thing agreeing to her request not to be called Taylor. Because physically she is, obviously, but mentally, emotionally . . . In some ways, she may seem like the Taylor we knew and loved, but in reality . . . she’s still largely a stranger at this point. And even if she regained her memories tomorrow, it doesn’t mean she’d morph back into her old self.

“Think about it, Kurt,” she added gently as he started to protest. “Neither of us is the same person we were nine years ago either, and if you were to get back together with Jane, you couldn’t expect that relationship to be the same either. That wouldn’t be fair to either one of you.” In some ways, Jane would be like the second wife of a widower who had placed the memory of his first on a pedestal, only instead of competing against a dead woman, she would be battling against an earlier, more perfect version of _herself._ “What you’ve been through has caused you to change and grow as people, and because of that, whatever relationship you develop will have to evolve as well.”

Kurt opened his mouth several times before he could trust himself to speak. “So are you saying . . . Do you think I should just . . . ignore these feelings?” Given all that had happened between them, events Jane was _still_ unaware of, perhaps it was better that they just stayed friends this time around. Besides, he wasn’t sure that he could bear the potential heartbreak a second time.

“Not at all,” Sarah surprised him by saying. “I’ve watched you try to move on for years, and you’ve never quite gotten over Taylor, Kurt. And judging by the way she looked at you the night she came over for dinner, she’s developing feelings for you as well. I just don’t want you to jump into a relationship with her expecting it to be some mythical continuation of the happily-ever-after you guys had going. It will be different, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be just as good, or even better.”

“What about you?” Kurt asked. “Taylor hurt you as well. How would you feel if I were to . . . if we were to get together again?”

“Are you kidding?” Sarah chuckled. “This is going to sound like a total contradiction of everything I just said, but that would be a fairy-tale ending for me. Your guys’ marriage was the gold standard I judged all my relationships by, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still a little envious of what the two of you had. I think that’s one of the reasons I’ve been so angry at Taylor for so long. Because she didn’t just break your heart, she threw away something _amazing_ , a love that comes along once in a lifetime if you’re lucky. But I think maybe . . . maybe in your case, you’ll get that chance twice. If you decide you want it, that is. And I could not be more thrilled for you.” She hugged him fiercely. “I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you, too, sis,” Kurt told her. “And whether or not Taylor and I ever get back together, I’m sure you’ll find your own Prince Charming one of these days soon.” He hoped so anyway. He didn’t know anyone who deserved happiness more than his sister.

Now he just had to figure out what his own future held. Sarah’s words lingered on his mind the remainder of the night, and he was still thinking about what she’d said as he got dressed for work in the morning. He would be lying if he said the potential of a future with Taylor didn’t make his heart quicken, but he also recognized that there were far more obstacles in their path than his sister realized.

First and foremost, Jane was a _victim._ And not only a victim, but a pawn in a plot they hadn’t begun to understand yet, a plot that seemed designed to expose corruption at the highest levels of their government. He'd already been reprimanded for letting his feelings trump his professionalism, and with good reason. His own role in this plot was equally murky.

As were Taylor’s motives for leaving him. He might believe that she’d had a motive other than the one she professed for ending their marriage, but he had no _proof_ of that. To the contrary, he had concrete evidence in her own words that she was an adulterer. And it hurt like hell to know that she had likely chosen to make him believe that rather than trust him with the truth. They had been a team; whatever had gone wrong in her life, they should have faced it as such.

Not to mention, Jane still had no idea who he really was to her. Who he thought he might like to be again. No, the two of them wouldn’t be updating their Facebook statuses to _In a relationship_ anytime soon.

But that didn’t stop him from envisioning the day when they could. And it certainly didn’t help that their latest case required them to go undercover as a married couple. Complicating matters even further was the fact that the US Marshal assigned to the case was yet another ex-girlfriend. An ex-girlfriend who quickly made it clear that she wouldn’t mind rekindling their romance.

Kurt was still struggling to come up with a response to Allie’s proposition when Jane rounded the corner, and his mouth went dry as Allie faded from view, his mouth going dry as the sight of Jane in that form-fitting dress catapulted him back in time thirteen years.

_“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” Kurt asked Sarah only half-jokingly as he resisted the urge to tug at the bow tie she had just adjusted._

_“Because you love your wife?” she teased back, only half in jest herself. Kurt might still think his feelings for Taylor were entirely platonic, but she’d seen his eyes on her when he thought no one was looking, and she knew better. And it was obvious to her that Taylor reciprocated those feelings as well. Her faux sister-in-law was going to become her sister-in-law for real one of these days, and she could not be more excited for the two of them. Or herself, for getting a front row seat to watch it happen._

_Hopefully tonight would jumpstart that process, before these two knuckleheads made the mistake of getting divorced. She couldn’t wait to see Kurt’s face when he caught sight of Taylor in the prom dress the two of them had spent days picking out. “Relax,” she advised, swatting his hand away as he reached for his bow tie again. “Just look at this as good practice for going undercover when you’re a federal agent someday.”_

_“Practice,” Kurt repeated dubiously. “Right.” As if a night surrounded by awkward, annoying adolescents would prepare him for what he would face out there on the streets. He’d really been hoping Taylor would opt out of this just as she had her junior prom, but he had instantly vetoed her suggestion that she could go with a group of friends. She was his wife, and he would be damned before he would allow her to dance with any of the gawky boys he had caught eyeing him enviously on his infrequent visits to the school._

_He might not want to go back to high school, but he wasn’t so old that he couldn’t remember the thrill of this night, and he had spared no expense to make it special for her. He wanted it to be a night that she would remember for the rest of her life. Movement at the top of the stairs caught his attention, and his jaw dropped as he got his first glimpse of Taylor._

_He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his tomboy wife in a dress, their wedding day among them, but even that momentous occasion paled in comparison to the vision currently descending the stairs before him. She was wearing a lace beaded black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places and offered just the barest glimpse of her cleavage, her hair and makeup done by Sarah’s expert hand, and he was even more tongue-tied now than he had been when he first saw his date for his own senior prom._

“Ah,” Allie said, turning to see what had put that thunderstruck look on Kurt’s face. “I get it.” She scoffed at his weak attempts at denial as they started toward Jane, unable to contain a pang of envy. She couldn’t recall seeing him ever once looking at her like that. Jane was a lucky woman.

Jane’s cheeks turned pink at Kurt’s intense perusal, and she pointed at her neck, glancing down for a moment before meeting his eyes once more. “Umm . . . Tattoos sort of ruin the whole undercover thing, so they covered them with makeup.” Kurt continued to gaze at her without speaking, and she cleared her throat nervously. “I feel ridiculous in this dress.” Somehow she didn’t think attire like this had ever featured prominently in her wardrobe.

Kurt finally found his voice. “That is not the word that I would use.”

_Kurt was staring at her like she’d grown two heads, and Taylor resisted the urge to bolt back up the stairs and change back into her usual attire. She had been hoping that this night might help him to see her as the woman she was becoming rather than the tomboy he had palled around with all his life, but she was already beginning to second-guess that decision. They’d already been living together for years, and he had never once showed any romantic interest. In fact, that had probably been the kiss of death to any that he might have had. He had certainly gotten an up-close-and-personal view to all her shortcomings. She forced herself to continue descending the stairs until she stood in front of him. “Please tell me I don’t look like a complete idiot in this dress.”_

_Sarah nudged him when he didn’t immediately respond. “What? No. No!” Kurt repeated more emphatically. “That’s not . . . You don’t . . .” He took a deep breath to get his racing heart under control and started over. “I wouldn’t say that at all.”_

_“What would you say?” Taylor asked shyly, hardly able to breathe as he reached for her hand and slipped the corsage he had bought her onto her wrist._

_“Beautiful,” he told her as he slipped an arm around her waist, posing for a quick picture before they headed for the door. “You look absolutely beautiful.”_

He’d told her he would be the envy of every guy there, and he had been, Kurt recalled as they stepped into the elevator. Just as he was sure he would be at this gala today. He turned to Jane as the doors slid closed, but couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Now the couple were wearing wedding rings, so . . .” He fingered the small metal band as he held it up, feeling more than seeing it catch Jane’s eye as well before their gazes connected once more.

“Oh, right, yeah. Of course.” Jane held out her hand, and Kurt gently slid the circlet into place on her ring finger. _With this ring, I thee wed._ The words echoed so loudly in his brain he could almost hear himself speaking them.

Jane stared down at the wedding band on her finger as it triggered a memory of herself in bed with the man with the tree tattoo gazing pensively at a diamond ring. Her brow furrowed. Had she been engaged? She was just opening her mouth to ask Kurt if he knew when the elevator doors opened, and the moment was lost.

Before they could even get inside the gala, a man recognized Kurt’s pin and after checking that they had the tickets, he directed them to follow him. Jane did her best to stay calm as they slid into the unfamiliar limo, but once they had surrendered their cell phones, she reached for Kurt’s hand, telling herself that she was staying in character, but really needing the comfort of his touch to keep her nerves at bay. Despite her confident assurances that she could pull this off, this was brand new territory for her, and she was thankful she had him by her side to keep her grounded.

_Kurt started as Taylor took his hand as the limo approached the fancy restaurant in the neighboring town where he’d made reservations. It had been an unspoken but clearly understood rule between them since they got married that they would limit even the most innocuous of romantic touches to the times when they were in the public eye and it was absolutely necessary. Which meant a great deal of it later tonight, which he was looking forward to and dreading in equal measure, but he hadn’t steeled himself for that yet. He resisted the urge to snatch his hand back. “Taylor—”_

_“I wanted to thank you,” Taylor said softly as she looked over at Kurt. “For going with me to the prom, and taking me out to dinner, and . . . everything you’ve done for me these past few years. I know I haven’t always been as grateful as I should have been, and you’d probably rather be going anywhere else, but I’m really glad it’s you with me tonight.” She leaned over and kissed a stunned Kurt on the cheek before he could respond._

_“You’re very welcome, Taylor,” Kurt told her when he finally found his voice. “And there is_ nowhere _else I’d rather be tonight.” Or any night. They’d had a rocky start after Emma’s death, but the two of them had persevered until they sorted through their differences, and now they worked together as a well-oiled team. Their marriage might be in name only, but he’d be hard-pressed to find a life partner that suited him better—or that he had more in common with. If he hadn’t promised Emma he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, he would be doing everything in his power right now to convince Taylor to make their arrangement permanent. To give their marriage a real chance._

Kurt held onto Jane’s hand firmly throughout the helicopter ride, sensing she needed the reassurance, and when they landed, he gently lifted her down, staying close by her side as several armed security guards approached. One of them patted him down quickly, but he took his time checking Jane for weapons, and a muscle in Kurt’s jaw ticked as he allowed his hands to linger on her longer than was necessary. “Enough.” The man didn’t heed his warning. “I said _enough_!” he snarled as he shoved the man away from her.

“Hey!” Jane said as Kurt grappled with the man. “Hey! It’s fine. It’s fine. Please. Let him do his job,” she told Kurt with a pointed look.

“I don’t like him touching you,” Kurt growled.

“And I don’t like _you_ touching him,” Jane responded as the security guards cleared them and directed them toward the house. “What the hell was that about?” she hissed to Kurt as they walked.

_“You’re my wife,” Kurt reminded an irate Taylor as the two of them watched the young man who had been foolish enough to ask her to dance within his earshot scurry away. He didn’t know why she was so irritated. Anyone who would give up that easily wasn’t worthy of her, and she would probably never see him again once she graduated anyway. Really, he had done her a favor. “And I’m the only man you’ll be dancing with tonight.”_

_Taylor bit back the sarcastic retort that automatically sprang to her lips as irritation quickly turned to triumph at the flash of jealousy in Kurt’s eyes. This was what she had wanted, after all. For him to recognize that she was no longer the little girl who had fearlessly tagged along with him, but a woman worthy of his attention. His interest. She could hardly complain when she got exactly the results she’d been hoping for. “Fine then.” She looped an arm around his waist and smiled up at him as provocatively as she knew how. “Let’s dance . . . hubby.”_

“You’re my wife,” Kurt repeated now with a pointed look, and was relieved when Jane shifted the conversation to more important matters. By the time they entered the house, they had a new game plan, and he had the irresistible urge to dance with her once more. Jane gave him the perfect opening when she asked him what they should do. “We should wait until the seller makes contact. Till then . . .” he placed his hand on the small of her back and gestured to the other couples on the dance floor, “we should try to blend in.”

“No,” Jane objected immediately. “I . . . I don’t think I can dance.” Given her aversion to dressing up, it seemed unlikely that was an activity she’d ever participated in.

Oh, she could dance. “Well . . .” Kurt drawled, “up until this morning, you couldn’t speak Bulgarian. Who knows? Maybe you became a tango champion while you were gone.” He knew whatever her reality had been, it hadn’t been at all pleasant like that, but his words had the intended effect of putting her at ease, and she moved into his arms without a second thought, the two of them swaying to the music as rhythmically as they had all those years ago.

“So, um . . .” Jane racked her brain for something to say as Kurt studied her with the warmest look she’d seen in his eyes yet, “you and that um . . . US Marshal . . .”

“Allie,” Kurt supplied.

“You looked pretty . . .” Jane hesitated, not sure what to say. Wishing she hadn’t brought the subject up.

“Yeah,” Kurt acknowledged. “We used to date. A little while.”

She had never been more unhappy to be proved right. “Well, how little?”

Kurt bit back a smile at Jane’s question. Taylor had never been one to beat around the bush when she wanted to know what was going on with him, and he’d always appreciated her directness. He was glad to see that hadn’t changed. “Well . . . about a year or so,” he told her as he spun her away from him and then pulled her back to his chest.

Jane was taken aback. “That’s little?”

Compared to the length of time they’d been together before they’d _been_ together, it was. Or the length of their marriage as a whole. “We weren’t . . . the best at communicating.” Though given how frequently his relationships failed, he had begun to think he was the reason. Then again, it had never been a problem with Taylor. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be with Jane either. Yet another point in favor of getting back together with her.

“Well, I don’t even . . .” Know if there was someone special in my life, Jane started to say, before realizing that maybe she did. But it wasn’t her own love life that interested her at the moment. “Have you . . . ever been married?”

Kurt froze. Guess he’d been a little too quick to admire that directness. He should have been anticipating that question, but somehow it had never occurred to him that she might ask it one day. He started to answer her honestly, before realizing if he did so, she might well put two and two together, only in this case, it wouldn’t be four. Unless and until he was able to gather more information, the best thing he could do for both of them was to keep quiet. “No.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “Never married.” He forced a lightness into his tone that he was very far from feeling as he spun her again. “I’m too choosy.”

Jane smiled, but her own amusement quickly faded. “I, um . . . I’ve been having memories that make it seem like I might have been engaged.”

It was all Kurt could do not to react as he met Jane’s eyes. “What did you remember?” Surely she would have said something if the memory had been of him. Of _them._

Jane shook her head slightly as she searched Kurt’s gaze, hoping against hope that she would find some answers there but not really surprised to see him looking back at her guardedly. He was too much the FBI agent to reveal anything without thinking it through carefully first. If he had any answers at all. “Moments, fragments. It all seems so far away from where I am now.”

Oh, if only she knew. The answers she sought were within reach—in her very arms, in fact—and it was all Kurt could do not to blurt them out to her. He was relieved that the seller’s summons prevented him from doing just that.

Rich Dotcom proved to be quite the character, but fortunately, the two of them worked together as seamlessly as partners as they had as husband and wife, and backup arrived just in the nick of time to save them. By the time they boarded the helicopter back to the city, Kurt was more certain than ever that if Taylor had left for a good reason, he wanted her back in his life on a permanent basis.

More than anything.


	13. Chapter 13

The news that Patterson’s boyfriend had been killed because of one of her tattoos hit Jane like a bombshell. She arrived at work early the next morning, not quite sure what she could do, but desperate to find a lead that would help get her friend the justice she deserved. Patterson’s whole world had been shattered, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible. If she hadn’t come into their lives, none of this would have ever happened.

She headed to the evidence room and donned a pair of gloves before pulling the box related to her case off the shelf, swallowing hard as she pulled out the bag she had been found in and laid it on the table in front of her. It seemed so small looking at it now, but it was the sum total of the physical evidence they had in her case. She fiddled with the zipper, flipped over the tag that read _Call the FBI,_ hoping against hope that she would remember something, but her mind remained a complete blank, and she felt the familiar frustration well up within her. She wanted so badly to help, but she was _useless_ in this instance.

Kurt could see the sadness on Jane’s face as he approached, and it broke his heart. He wanted so badly to sweep her up in his arms and assure her that everything would be all right, just as he’d used to, but he knew from bitter experience that mere words wouldn’t help at this point. “What are you doing down here?”

“Uh . . .” Jane hesitated. What could she say? What _was_ there to say? “I don’t know.” She finally met Kurt’s eyes. “I thought maybe seeing it would . . . trigger something.” She glanced down at her wrist and pointed to the tattoo that had brought about so much heartache. “This tattoo . . .”

“Jane . . .” Kurt stepped closer to her. “You can’t blame yourself.” He’d seen the look on her face at the hospital last night, and he’d been afraid she was doing exactly that, but it hadn’t been the right time for this conversation.

Jane’s eyes were shimmering with tears as she met Kurt’s gaze once more. “The only reason David was in that library was because he was following this. And I’m covered in these. But I have no control over what they mean or what happens because of them.” She _hated_ being so powerless.

“Jane,” Kurt said again as he gently took her hands in his, “these tattoos . . . they’ve saved a lot of lives.” _She_ had saved a lot of lives. Including his and Agent Bryant’s. He still hadn’t told her how proud he was of her for that, how much he appreciated it.

“Not this time.” The sympathy in Kurt’s eyes was nearly her undoing, and it was all Jane could do not to throw herself into his arms. “This wasn’t some terrorist or criminal that died; it was Patterson’s boyfriend. How is she going to move on from this? I’ve never . . . lost anyone before. At least not anyone I can remember,” she amended, quickly realizing she had, in fact, lost her mother. And him.

“You’re lucky,” Kurt told her. “It takes time.” A lot of time. And in his case, after losing her, a lot of alcohol. If Sarah hadn’t confronted him about that, he could easily have become the drunk his father had predicted. A wave of sadness swept over him. How different might things be now if he had just gone after Taylor? “Come on,” he said, as much to distract himself as her. “Let’s get to work.”

They were almost to the bullpen when an agent Jane didn’t recognize approached them. “Agent Weller? There’s a Dr. Lida Carras on the phone for you.”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “Lida Carras?” It was an unusual name, but it seemed familiar somehow. “Did . . . did I know her?”

“Yes.” Kurt watched her closely. “Do you remember her?”

Jane racked her brain, but she couldn’t put a face to the name. Her shoulders slumped. “No.” Why couldn’t she remember _anything_ from that time in her life? She would give anything for even one memory of Kurt. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt squeezed Jane’s shoulder gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He started to tell the agent he would take the phone call in his office when Reade spotted them and frantically waved them over. Clearly, he and Zapata had come up with a lead in David’s murder and that took precedence right now. “Take down the number where she can be reached and tell her I’ll call her back as soon as possible.”

It was all Jane could do not to ask about Lida Carras on the drive to the Levkins, but the grim expression on Kurt’s face reminded her that now was not the time. Today was all about getting justice for Patterson, and they needed to be at the top of their game, especially if they were dealing with Russian spies, so she determinedly forced the distraction from her mind. The case turned out to be distracting enough.

“How could the Russians be so sure their agents could get these people to marry them?” she asked Kurt as they headed to Queens Museum to talk to Olivia Delidio.

“I’m sure they profiled their targets for years,” Kurt told her. “Created matches based on personalities, interests.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Jane had been sent to him for a similar reason. Anyone who looked into him would quickly figure out that he had never really gotten over Taylor. Their shared history and the unfinished business between them would have made her the perfect target for him. What he couldn’t figure out was why. It wasn’t as if Taylor—or Jane—would ever willingly take part in a plot against him.

“That’s a lot of effort,” Jane commented.

“It’s worth it for them,” Kurt responded. “Being able to assimilate to prevent getting caught.”

“But still,” Jane countered, “to just give up your whole life like that.” A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “I wonder if they ever regretted it.” She didn’t think she would ever have been able to make a choice like that. To walk away from all that she knew, everyone and everything she loved.

There was nothing he could say to that, so Kurt settled for flashing Jane a sympathetic smile before he exited the car, and they headed into the museum. There was no more opportunity for personal discussion after that, and Kurt didn’t see Jane again once the case was concluded. He was just in his office wrapping up some paperwork when the phone rang. “Weller.”

“Kurt?” a female voice said hesitantly. “This is Lida Carras. I understand you want to talk to me about Taylor? How is she doing? You know the two of us haven’t spoken in years.”

“Yeah, uh . . .” Kurt massaged the back of his neck. “Neither had we until recently.” He filled Dr. Carras in on what had transpired between them and how she had come back into his life.

The silence that followed his revelations was almost deafening. “Dr. Carras?” he prompted at length.

“I’m sorry,” Lida apologized as she drew a shaky breath. “This is just . . . It’s a lot to take in.” Her mind was racing as she came to a decision. “We need to talk. In person. If I catch a red-eye to New York tonight, can you meet me first thing in the morning?”

“Of course,” Kurt responded immediately, his curiosity peaked as he wondered what she could have to tell him that couldn’t be said over the phone when, by her own admission, she hadn’t been in contact with Taylor in probably as long as him. Something in her tone warned him that she wouldn’t be forthcoming, so he simply exchanged phone numbers with her and arranged to meet her at a coffee shop between his apartment and the hotel where she planned to stay.

Sarah called just as he was arriving home to ask him to pick up some groceries, and he decided to walk the three blocks to the store. He needed to clear his head after the day he’d had. He had a feeling his dreams tonight were going to be haunted by the image of Jane going over the side of that ship, rather than Kate Williams. She was going to be the death of him yet.

He accomplished his errand on autopilot and was startled to see the object of his thoughts sitting on the bench outside his apartment when he returned. _Alone._ He picked up the pace as he approached her. “Hey. Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Jane reassured him as she stood, flashing him that sheepish smile he had always found so endearing.

He glanced around. “Where’s your detail?”

“Umm . . .” Jane hesitated. She had known it would upset him to learn she had come alone, but her need for privacy had outweighed such mundane concerns. “I snuck out.”

“That is crazy,” Kurt growled at her. “Their job is to be with you the whole time. To look after you when you get home.” When he couldn’t.

Jane grabbed his hand, stopping his tirade. “I just needed to see you.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

Kurt’s temper faded as he gazed into those green depths. “Is everything okay?” he asked in a much gentler tone.

Jane hesitated only an instant before looping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. He didn’t respond at first, and she drew back slightly, afraid she had misjudged his interest in her, but when she closed the distance again, he kissed her back.

Kurt kept his hand on her jaw when they pulled apart again after the all-too-brief kiss, and Jane felt a blush stain her cheeks at his warm gaze. “I just, umm . . . I wanted a moment that was just . . . us.”

Kurt couldn’t contain his smile as he searched Jane’s eyes, and then they were kissing again. It was a unique experience, familiar and yet at the same time completely new, and he fought the urge to deepen the kiss, not wanting to overwhelm her with the strength of his feelings. She wasn’t there yet. _They_ weren’t there yet. But they would get there, he had no doubt of that. He just had to be patient.

He never wanted this moment to end, but of course it did. Sawyer came out to help with the groceries, and Jane pulled back with a charmingly embarrassed laugh. Kurt watched her sashay away before following Sawyer inside, so distracted by that kiss that he never even gave a thought to the danger of allowing her to return home alone.

Sarah offered to cook supper, and for once Kurt didn’t argue. He headed back to his room and took a seat on his bed, taking several deep breaths to try to regain his composure. He faced down armed criminals and terrorists for a living without flinching, and yet that kiss, innocent as it had been, had nearly been his undoing. _It’s just one kiss,_ he told himself and then froze.

 _“It’s just one kiss,” Taylor argued stubbornly, her eyes flashing, hands on hips. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Is the idea of kissing me really_ that _repulsive?”_

 _Actually, it was the fact that it_ wasn’t _that was the problem. “What brought this on, Taylor?” Kurt asked in puzzlement as he gazed down at his suddenly unreasonable wife. “We agreed that sex was off the table between us.”_

 _Taylor rolled her eyes at him. “I’m talking about_ one _kiss, Kurt, not . . . not . . .” She sighed. “I’m_ married, _and I’m the only girl in my class who doesn’t know what it’s like to at least kiss a guy. It’s not fair.”_

_“Life’s not fair, kiddo,” Kurt pointed out, though no one knew that better than Taylor. If it was, she would be having this conversation with Emma, not him. “Now come on.” He turned away and pulled an armful of ingredients out of the refrigerator, placing them down on the counter in front of her. “Fix a salad for us while I get dinner going.”_

_“Fine,” Taylor huffed. “If you won’t do it, then I’m sure Tommy Johnson will be happy to.”_

_The idea of that pimply-faced little twerp laying a hand on his wife, much less his lips, made Kurt’s blood boil. His jaw clenched as he whirled around and glared at her. “Oh, no, you won’t. We made a deal, remember?”_

_“I remember agreeing that we wouldn’t see other people while we were married.” Taylor shrugged casually. “One kiss doesn’t violate that, as far as I can tell. Besides . . . we’ll be getting a divorce soon enough anyway.” She only had six months left of her senior year._

_Kurt watched in disbelief as Taylor picked up a knife and began dicing a tomato as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she hadn’t just upended_ his _world. “Fine,” he ground out. He stalked over to her, and she glanced up at him, startled, as he gripped her arms and pulled her gently to him before pressing his lips to hers._

_He kept the kiss chaste and drew back far sooner than he wanted to. “Satisfied?” he asked when Taylor shyly met his eyes, doing his best to seem as unaffected as possible. The last thing he wanted was for her to discern how he really felt about her._

_“That’s it?” Taylor frowned when he nodded. “Well, that’s disappointing. The way the girls at school talked, it was_ much _more exciting than that. According to them, it’s almost . . . magical.”_

_“I’m sure it will be when you find the right person, Taylor,” Kurt assured her, pushing aside his disquiet at the thought of her with another man. God, he was no better than his father, lusting after an innocent underage girl. Emma would be rolling in her grave if she knew the direction his thoughts had taken._

_“I very much doubt that any of them have found the person they’re meant to be with yet,” Taylor said dryly. “I guess you’re just . . . not very good at kissing?” Though she had read enough romance novels in order to appear knowledgeable on the subject to her classmates to suspect that had been a half-assed attempt. “Maybe I should give Tommy a try after a—”_

_Her words were cut short as Kurt crushed his lips to hers, putting her mouth to much better use, still keeping the kiss relatively chaste, but hopefully giving her a taste of the magic she craved. Her lips were every bit as sweet as he had always imagined, and it took every bit of his iron control to pull back when she opened her mouth with a soft moan. “Better?” he asked as her eyes landed on him with unfocused satisfaction, and he fought the urge to do it all over again._

_“Much,” Taylor responded, barely restraining herself from bringing a hand to her still-tingling lips. A shiver snaked down her spine at the heat in Kurt’s eyes. He was pretending to be unaffected, but clearly he had enjoyed it every bit as much as her. But if he wanted to play it cool, she would oblige him. “You’re not so bad at kissing after all.”_

_Kurt’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned at her. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mrs. Weller.” He waited a beat, then added, “For a beginner.”_

Kurt’s smile was bittersweet as the memory faded. Her outraged look had been so adorable that he’d realized in that moment that he was absolutely, irrevocably in love with her, and it had scared him so badly that he had redoubled his efforts to keep his distance, all while simultaneously keeping her close, never realizing that she had agreed to stay married and allow him to accompany her to California because she felt the same way about him. The two of them had operated at cross purposes like that for well over a year after the move before their feelings finally got the better of them.

Kurt slept only fitfully that night, his dreams haunted by images of the two of them, and he ordered an extra-strong coffee as he waited for Dr. Carras to arrive. He was just starting on his second cup when a petite, olive-skinned whirlwind slid into the seat across from him, setting a familiar box on the table next to her.

“First, let me say that you are a world-class idiot,” Lida greeted Kurt. “Taylor never so much as looked at another man, let alone had an affair with one. She moped for weeks even _before_ you left for Quantico. And after you left, when she wasn’t in class, she was holed up in her room in our apartment. The _last_ thing she was interested in doing was socializing. With anyone.”

Kurt nodded as her words erased the last lingering shreds of doubt that Taylor had been unfaithful to him. “I’d already pretty much come to that conclusion, but thank you for telling me that.”

“I wish I’d done it sooner,” Lida said regretfully. “That’s why I flew out here. Taylor wasn’t having an affair back then, but something was definitely going on with her. After you left, she was distant and short-tempered, and she wasn’t sleeping well. She . . .” She hesitated and then pushed the box she had brought toward him. “She asked me to give you this if I ever heard anything happened to her. I wonder now if she was hoping I’d be concerned enough to contact you and find out what she’d done.”

Kurt’s hands automatically came up to cover the box. It contained Emma Shaw’s journals, and had been one of Taylor’s most prized possessions. He couldn’t imagine why she would have left them behind, but perhaps rereading them now in light of what had happened would offer some clue. And the one from the year Taylor was born had been written in some kind of code that they had never been able to crack. Perhaps Patterson would have better luck. “And she never confided in you what was bothering her?”

“No.” Lida shook her head. “I didn’t even know she was leaving. I came home one day, and all her things were gone, and she’d left a note saying she was sorry, but that she missed you so much that she’d decided to transfer to a college out East. Which struck me as crazy even back then, because she only had a few months to go, and she would have _lost_ credits in the transfer. I tried calling her a few times to check up on her, but she never answered. I almost called you, but . . .” She shrugged helplessly.

“I wish you had,” Kurt said with raw honesty. “I know she pushed me away rather than letting me help her with whatever was going on, but I still feel like I failed her, you know?”

“I know,” Lida agreed with a pained smile. “I wish now I had pushed her harder to open up back then, but I just chalked up her mood to missing you. There was one more strange thing, though,” she added. “Right after you left, I saw her arguing with an older man on campus. When they spotted me, he took off. I asked Taylor about it, but she said it was just a man who had mistaken her for his son’s ex-girlfriend.”

“But you didn’t believe her,” Kurt surmised.

“It just . . . It seemed too heated to be a case of mistaken identity.” Lida’s eyes darkened at the remembrance. “Taylor would normally shrug something like that off, but she was _furious_ that day. I can’t imagine her getting that angry over a misunderstanding.”

Neither could he. Taylor had been the most empathetic person he knew. “Do you think you could describe him to a sketch artist?”

“I can do you one better than that,” Lida said with a faint smile. “Something told me the guy was trouble, so I snapped a picture of him when they weren’t looking. Fortunately, I never seemed to find time to delete my old photos. It took me a while, but I found it. Here.” She swiped through her phone until she found the picture and slid it across the table to him.

Kurt’s mouth tightened as he picked up the phone and got a good look at the man in the photo.

“Do you know him?” Lida asked in surprise, taking note of Kurt’s suddenly grim expression.

Oh, he knew him all right. Tom Carter. So he’d been right, the man _had_ recognized Jane. And he had some explaining to do. His father’s story came to mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been the man that showed up in Clearfield as well. He certainly fit the description Bill Weller had given. “Would you mind emailing this photo to me?” Kurt asked. “I appreciate this, Lida.”

“No problem. I’m glad I could help,” she returned as she did as he’d asked. “I just wish I had done it sooner.” She hesitated. “Could I . . . would you mind if I offered an observation?”

“Of course not,” Kurt responded.

Lida nodded. “Look, I can’t imagine why Taylor did what she did, or how devastating it must have been to you, but I’m sure she had good intentions, because she loved you more than life itself. I’d be willing to bet anything that she still does, even if she doesn’t remember you yet. I hope you’ll be able to forgive her and let go of the past, because what the two of you had was special. A love like yours doesn’t come along all that often, and it’s worth fighting for.”

“I agree,” Kurt said huskily, and Lida smiled at him. They talked for a few more minutes before she left for the airport to catch her flight home, Kurt promising to keep her updated and bring Taylor to visit her again one day, and then he headed to the office.

He was grinning like a fool as he drove, but he couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. Mayfair and this case be damned, it was time to take Borden’s advice and come clean with Jane about their past, and then make her his again. She was the love of his life, after all.

And he couldn’t _wait_ to tell her so.


	14. Chapter 14

_You did this to yourself._

Those words—her words—echoed on a repeating loop in Jane’s head as she sat on her couch hours after returning to her safe house, having quickly abandoned her efforts to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Carter coming toward her with that drill, the look of surprise on his face as Oscar shot him. And then seeing her own face on that video. _You did this to yourself._

 _Just what was it she had done?_ she wondered now bitterly. _What the hell had she gotten      ‘_ _into?_ She had kissed him mere hours ago, but already it felt like a lifetime ago. Like she had been a different person then. Her future seemed more hauntingly uncertain than it ever had, but one thing had become glaringly obvious to her on her walk home: it didn’t include Kurt. He deserved better than someone who had apparently cold-bloodedly targeted him for god only knew what purpose. She didn’t even know how she was supposed to look him in the eye again, after all he had done for her. How was she supposed to face any of them?

She wasn’t even aware she was crying until she felt the wetness from her tears on her cheeks. She curled into a ball and succumbed to her sobs, grieving not only the loss of her illusions about herself, but all that might have been with her and Kurt.

xxx

By the time Kurt arrived at the NYO, his good humor had faded. He was going to get answers out of Tom Carter if he had to choke them out of him. He stormed into Mayfair’s office and handed her the photo Lida Carras had provided him. “You need to get Carter in here _now.”_

Mayfair’s brows had risen at his abrupt entrance, but her mouth tightened as she studied the picture and had her worst fears confirmed. “That’s going to be a little difficult. Carter went missing last night. I got a call this morning that his car was found on a bridge with his ID in it.”

“The CIA thinks he committed suicide?” Kurt was openly skeptical. Carter seemed to take too much perverse pleasure in his job to be despondent enough to end his life. “More likely, one of the enemies he’s no doubt made finally caught up with him. Or he went on the run to avoid answering for his misdeeds.”

“Misdeeds?” Mayfair queried. “And what would those be, exactly?” She chose her next words with care. “You have a decade-old photo of Carter having a talk with Taylor, Kurt. It’s not exactly evidence of a crime.”

“Lida said their conversation was heated,” Kurt shot back. “That Taylor wasn’t herself after that day. And look how tightly he’s gripping her arm in the photograph. There was no good reason for my wife to know a man like Carter, Mayfair. He was _definitely_ up to something.”

“Be that as it may,” Mayfair said, not yet ready to come clean about what she knew, “you have no real proof of that, Weller, and until you do, I expect you to keep this to yourself. Tom Carter is most likely dead, whether by his own hand or someone else’s, so whatever his connection to Taylor, it’s irrelevant at this point. Patterson came in early because she’s on the verge of cracking another tattoo, so get back out there and do your job.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kurt said stiffly, exiting her office without a backwards glance. If it was proof she wanted, it was proof he would find. It was only a matter of time. But for now, he had an even more pressing matter to attend to. He retrieved Emma Shaw’s encoded journal from his office and headed to Patterson’s lab.

“Hey, he greeted her, eyeing her with concern as he walked into the room. “I thought you were taking some time.”

“I did,” she responded quickly—almost too quickly—and Kurt’s eyes narrowed.

“Patterson,” he started, but she interrupted him once more.

“I don’t need time or space,” she told him vehemently. “I just need to do my job, okay?” She wished everyone would stop hovering and just let her do it.

He knew the feeling. He’d thrown himself into work after Taylor left him, but it had proved a hollow distraction for the pain of that loss. But Patterson would have to figure that out for herself. “Okay,” Kurt conceded. “In that case, I have another puzzle for you to work on.” He handed her the journal.

“What is this?” Patterson asked as she flipped through the book and found herself looking at page after page of what appeared to be handwritten gibberish.

“It’s Emma Shaw’s journal from the year she was pregnant with Taylor,” Kurt told her. “Taylor gave her mother’s journals to her college roommate for safekeeping, and she just returned them to me. We took this one to several top codebreakers, but they were never able to crack it. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Patterson’s brow furrowed. “Do you think it has something to do with the case?”

Kurt shook his head. “I doubt it, but at this point, I’m not ruling anything out. Emma went to a lot of trouble to keep it secret for some reason. I’d like to know what that reason was, for my own peace of mind, if nothing else. And Taylor always wanted to know what it said.”

“Are you going to tell Jane that you have these?” Patterson asked curiously.

Kurt thought about it, but he slowly shook his head. “No. At least, not just yet.” He wanted to read through them again first himself, make sure they didn’t contain any information he would prefer to share with her firsthand. “See what you can make of that one, and I’ll go from there. And Patterson? I would prefer to keep this just between us for now.”

“You got it,” she said with a faint smile, intrigued by the mystery and already plotting out her first attempt to solve it. “I’ll let you know the minute I figure it out.” It never crossed her mind that she wouldn’t succeed where others had failed.

“Thanks, Patterson,” Kurt said gratefully, giving her another hug before he left her lab and went in search of Jane. He ran across her in the hallway leading to the locker room. “Morning,” he greeted with a slight smile.

“Morning,” Jane returned in a subdued voice. Kurt was so happy to see her that she felt even more guilty. She was a fraud, and he wouldn’t even be able to bear to look at her if he knew the truth. _And she would tell him that,_ she promised herself silently once again. As soon as possible. She just needed to meet with Oscar again a time or two and glean as much information as she could from him. She needed to understand what had turned her from the straight-laced small-town girl Kurt had described into the coldblooded killer her memories were telling her she had become. And as much as she hated lying to him—to all of the people who had become the closest thing to family that she knew—Oscar was the key to that.

“Jane,” Kurt said, and she reluctantly turned to face him. “We should probably talk about last night. Obviously—” he glanced around, “—not here.”

“I don’t think we should follow my tattoos anymore,” Jane said abruptly without commenting on his request.

Kurt couldn’t believe his ears. “Why?”

“These cases keep getting more and more dangerous, and they already got David killed,” she told him. “I mean, how much longer till someone else gets hurt?” How much longer till _he_ got hurt—or worse? She couldn’t bear it if she was the reason something happened to him.

“What about all the good that we’ve done, all right?” Kurt countered. “And not to mention the fact that these tattoos are the only way of figuring out who did this to you.”

“I just—If something happened to you . . .” Jane trailed off, realizing she was revealing too much of herself, of her feelings, with that statement. She couldn’t be with Kurt now, no matter how much she might want to, and she wasn’t going to string him along in the hopes that she might one day be able to. He deserved someone better than her anyway. He deserved someone who wasn’t a _killer._

“I know what I signed up for,” Kurt retorted without missing a beat. “We all know the risks.” Though he found her concern for him incredibly touching. “If you don’t want to come out in the field with us anymore—”

“No!” Jane interrupted hastily. “No, that’s not . . .” She trailed off, taking several deep breaths as she tried to compose her thoughts enough to make him understand. “Don’t you ever worry that we’re playing right into their hands?”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, suddenly noticing the shadows in her eyes, the tight set to her mouth. It didn’t look like she’d slept well either. Clearly something was bothering her, but before he could pursue the matter, Patterson approached them with that new tattoo lead and before he knew it, they were on a plane to the Dark Isles.

The flight to Turkey seemed interminable. Kurt had hoped to continue their conversation on the plane, but much to his surprise, Jane had taken the seat next to Zapata, leaving him to sit with Reade, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye for much of the first half of the flight. She seemed okay, if a bit pensive at times, and he felt a pang as he wondered if she was regretting their kiss. If so, it would explain why she hadn’t returned any of his calls.

 _No,_ he told himself determinedly. There was another explanation. There had to be. She still loved him as much as he did her, even if she couldn’t remember; he had felt it in that kiss last night. Whatever was going on with her today, it had nothing to do with them. And given all that she had been through in the past few months, the doubts she had expressed earlier were completely normal. She was okay; she had to be.

Reade, however, did not share his opinion. “Is Jane okay? She seems a little off,” he asked as they explored the fuselage of Pan Asian flight 921 for any clue as to the whereabouts of the passengers.

“I asked her if she wanted to sit this one out,” Kurt told him. “She said no.”

“Jane’s tough. She’s never going to sit herself out,” Reade retorted. “I’m just starting to see some cracks. If we push her too hard, she’ll break.”

Weller glanced back at him, but didn’t respond, though Reade’s words made him more determined than ever to talk to Jane at the first available opportunity. The truth was, he _didn’t_ know how much she could take. Taylor had never been tested like this, and Jane . . . Jane had been so tough since crawling out of that bag that he had come to see her as an indestructible force of nature. At least where their work was concerned.

But on a personal level . . . His heart broke a little as she implored him to come back as he and Reade prepared to go after the cattle prod they needed to power the sat phone the prisoners had been building. Her voice sounded steady enough to the casual observer, but he knew her well enough to detect the slight tremor beneath the outward calm, to read the fear she was trying so hard to conceal in the green depths of her eyes.

That fear was magnified tenfold as the Dabbur Zann marched her and the rest of the team into the room where he was being held captive. He kept his eyes locked on hers as she entered, trying to reassure her that he was okay. That they were all going to be okay.

And they were, thanks in large part to Jane herself. She freed herself from her bonds just as the lead terrorist was preparing to give the order to kill him and grabbed one of their captors’ guns, shooting the men closest to him and then taking out the leader as the rest of the team sprang into action to subdue the rest.

They made it back to the hostages just in the nick of time to save them, and with their help, he and Jane were able to get aboard the plane. They took down the terrorists in the cabin, but unfortunately, they were locked out of the cockpit, and Kurt felt his heart sink as he pulled out his gun, realizing that there was only one way left to ensure that their plan didn’t succeed. “One shot in the fuel tank. It’ll cause an explosion big enough to bring this plane down.”

Jane’s eyes widened as she stared into his, and he gently grasped her hand. God, why hadn’t he heeded his instincts and insisted she sit this case out when he’d had the chance? She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he was about to end her life. Knowing they would die together once again was hollow comfort. “Look . . . Jane. I’m sorry that I brought you here, all right? I chose this life; you didn’t. You never had a choice.”

Jane felt her eyes grow moist at the pain in Kurt’s voice. “Yes,” she insisted, “I did.” If anything, he was the one who hadn’t. _This was all your plan._ But if they were going to die today, the least she could do was clear her conscience and apologize to him for whatever the hell she’d dragged him into. “Kurt—”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but just as he was preparing to take his shot, Patterson’s voice sounded over the speakers, and the two of them looked at one another with identical expressions of relief.

Patterson’s quick thinking saved the day once again, and Jane laughed almost giddily once she had safely landed the plane, Kurt chuckling a little as well in relief. They’d made it. They’d actually made it.

He was in no hurry to board a plane again anytime soon, but in short order he found himself on a jetliner back to the U.S. Fortunately, this time Jane sat with him, and she slumped over against him as the stresses of the past few days finally caught up with her and she succumbed to sleep. Kurt idly stroked his fingers through her hair as she dozed, when suddenly a memory from years earlier flashed through his mind.

xxx

_Clearfield, Pennsylvania_

_March 2003_

The movie they had been watching had ended fifteen minutes ago, but Taylor had shown no inclination to move—and he wasn’t about to ask her to. Kurt idly began running his fingers through her hair as she remained curled up against him. He would have thought she was asleep if not for the slight hitch in her breathing as he did so. He knew this was dangerous territory, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself move.

 _The two of them were becoming more and more like an old married couple,_ he realized. Well, minus the lack of sex, of course. They had adapted to wedded life with an ease he never would have thought possible when he’d proposed this arrangement. Taylor’s maturity had helped with that, as she went out of her way to pull her weight in their relationship and always tried to see his point of view when they had their rare disagreements, and it had been quite some time since he could imagine his life without her.

“Kurt,” Taylor said suddenly, interrupting his reverie. “We need to talk.”

Kurt felt his smile fade at the seriousness in her voice. He had a feeling he knew what this conversation was about; he had been avoiding it for weeks. But it wasn’t fair to either of them to put it off any longer. “I know.”

“I’m going to be graduating soon,” Taylor said quietly. “I think it’s time we talked about initiating divorce proceedings.”

The matter-of-fact way she said it tore at his heart. “Is that really what you want?”

She drew back to study his face. “Don’t you? I thought sure you’d be ready to be ri—to move on with your life,” she hastily amended at the wounded look on his face. “Find a girl, settle down, have a couple kids . . .”

Kurt shook his head. “I made a decision a long time ago to put all that on hold until I became an FBI agent.” Though the love and marriage had already found him, albeit in reverse order. Not that he could—or would—admit that. He’d promised Emma Shaw that he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, and he would keep his word. “And you’ll never be rid of me. No matter what, we’re friends for life.” He took a deep breath. “I think we should stay married for the time being. I think I should go to California with you.”

Taylor was stunned. “What? _Why?”_

 _Because I love you._ It was all Kurt could do to hide that truth from her as he met her eyes. “Well, I . . . I’ve given this a lot of thought, and it makes good financial sense. I applied to the San Francisco police academy once you decided on Stanford, and I found out I was accepted last week. That’s close enough to the college for you to commute every day, or at least to come home on weekends if you’d rather stay in a dorm. And as my wife, you’d have access to my health insurance, if you needed it.”

Taylor said nothing for a long moment, frowning slightly. “That’s very kind of you, Kurt, but I don’t want to stay married to you just so I’ll benefit financially.” She wanted to stay married to him because he’d finally realized he couldn’t live without her. A vain hope if there ever was one. “I appreciate the offer, but—”

“No!” Kurt interrupted hastily. “That’s one reason, but it’s not the only reason.” It definitely wasn’t the _main_ reason. “I just . . . you’re my best friend, Taylor, and I hate the thought of you jetting off to a place where you don’t know anyone all by yourself. I know you’ll make friends quickly, and that you can take care of yourself, but you’ve never been more than a few hours’ drive away, and I’m not ready for that to change. I . . . I’d miss you. And you don’t have to worry about me holding you to the marriage any longer than you want. The moment you tell me, you’ve met a guy you’re interested in and want your freedom, I’ll call a lawyer and start divorce proceedings, I swear. Please, Taylor . . .”

Rather than reassure her, his words deepened the frown on her face. “And what about you?” she asked softly. “I know you said that you aren’t ready for anything serious, but since we’re moving away from a small town where everyone knows us, are you going to be seeing other women?”

“No,” Kurt hastened to reassure her. “Call me old-fashioned, but even though our marriage isn’t exactly . . . conventional, I take my vows very seriously. I’m not going to date anyone, even casually, until our divorce is finalized.” And probably not for a very long time after that. He didn’t know how he was going to survive seeing Taylor in love with another man.

“Me either,” Taylor said shyly, her frown disappearing at the warm smile he shot her.

“So you’ll do it?” Kurt asked hopefully. “You’ll stay married awhile longer and let me come to California with you?”

Taylor’s smile bloomed as she nodded. “California, here we come.”

Kurt felt a dizzying sense of relief flood through him at her words. He knew this was probably a mistake, that he was only setting himself up for greater heartache in the end, but he would sooner cut off his own arm than give her up a moment sooner than he had to. His gaze flickered to her lips, and it was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her.

He settled for hugging her tightly to him once more, his smile widening as she rested her head on his chest.

Sex or no sex, he was the luckiest guy on the planet.

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

Jane had disappeared on him the moment they returned to the NYO, and Kurt was anxious to catch her before she left for the night. They still had a few things to settle between them.

He found her in the locker room. “Mayfair told me she lifted your detail,” he greeted her.

Jane turned to face him with a fleeting expression that almost looked like guilt and closed her locker. “Yeah. I, um . . . I requested it.”

Kurt nodded as he approached her. “Jane, you and I . . . we need to sort out some things. There’s a park. At the end of my street. Meet me there at ten o’clock.”

Jane’s eyes flickered down and then back. “Kurt—”

Whatever she was about to say was lost as Reade and Zapata interrupted them. He gave her one last lingering look before bidding them all good night and heading home.

Anticipation drove him to arrive at the park twenty minutes early. He waited for over an hour, but she never showed.


	15. Chapter 15

Jane felt incredibly guilty for standing Kurt up, but she couldn’t wait any longer to get answers about herself. And technically speaking, she hadn’t agreed to his request to meet him later. Even if she wished more than anything that she were going to that park rather than sneaking around the city to meet Oscar.

 _Kurt would understand,_ she assured herself. He knew how much she needed answers, and she would share those answers with him, just as soon as she understood more about the person she had been. She would make things right between them.

The transmission tower appeared deserted when she arrived. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to show,” Oscar said from behind her.

“You were wrong,” Jane said as she turned to face him. “They lifted my detail.”

“Oh yeah?” Oscar asked. “Then why did you take four subways and three taxis to get here?” He smiled a little at her surprised look. “They were tailing you.”

“Apparently, so were you,” Jane retorted, not at all pleased to learn she hadn’t detected him.

“I had to be sure you weren’t followed,” Oscar told her. “They’re scared of you. And they should be.”

Jane studied him in silence for a moment before stepping closer. “Am I really Taylor Shaw?”

Oscar looked amused. “What did Weller tell you?”

“That we were friends as children, but we lost touch about nine years ago, and— _What?”_ Jane demanded in irritation as Oscar’s smile morphed into a Cheshire cat grin. He certainly had the requisite number of teeth for it.

“Weller’s lying through his teeth,” Oscar said, and Jane started slightly as she wondered if Oscar had somehow read her thoughts about his own. “You weren’t just his friend; you were his _wife_ for over six years. And you didn’t _lose touch;_ he divorced you.”

“No,” Jane disputed instantly. “You must be mistaken. I asked Kurt if he’d ever been married, and he told me he hadn’t.”

Oscar snorted. “Probably because he didn’t want you or any of his coworkers to know that the man they hold in such esteem took advantage of a vulnerable girl on the verge of losing her mother to press his advances. He certainly took care to make sure that never came to light when you reappeared in his life. All records pertaining to your marriage disappeared the next day.”

 _That was convenient._ “So how do I know you’re telling me the truth now?” Jane challenged. “If there’s no proof, then _you_ could be the one lying.”

“Oh, I have proof.” Oscar withdrew a copy of her marriage certificate from his coat pocket and handed it out to her. “You had the foresight to obtain this for us before we delivered you to the FBI.”

 _Delivered,_ Jane thought cynically. It was a pale word for the stark terror of waking up naked and alone in a bag, with cops pointing guns at her, and realizing that her entire life was a blank, that she was a stranger even to herself. And now she was being asked to accept that the man who had helped her navigate those uncharted waters—the man who had been unfailingly kind and patient and _loving_ to her—had been lying to her all along.

She glanced down at the paper in her hand. It was barely visible in the dim light, but Jane turned this way and that until she was able to read it, her heart sinking as it confirmed everything Oscar had just told her. “Why . . .” She hardly recognized her voice, and she took a deep breath to steady it. “Why did we get a divorce?”

Oscar shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Weller found someone new; maybe the novelty wore off having a child bride. Or maybe he just decided that the half of your inheritance he’d receive in the divorce was more appealing than you were.”

“No,” Jane protested automatically. “Kurt’s not . . . he’s not like that. He would never—” She stopped as she realized she didn’t know what he was like. She didn’t know anything anymore. Everything he had led her to believe about her previous life was a lie.

Oscar placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we—you, me, the people we work with—we’re the good guys. We’ve _never_ lied to you. And some part of you must have always known the FBI was, or you wouldn’t be here now.”

“So tell me . . . where have I been since college?” Jane wanted to know. “Why can’t the FBI find any trace of me all those years? What—”

“All in good time,” Oscar interrupted. “We need to learn to trust each other again.”

 _Trust. Right. After her entire world had just been upended once more._ “And how do we do that?” Jane asked skeptically.

“Slowly.” Oscar paused for a moment. “I have missions for you, some small, some big. Things that move us closer to our objectives. You show me you can be trusted, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“No.” Jane shook her head. “I’m not blindly taking orders from people I’ve never met. I’m _never_ going to hurt my team.” No matter that Weller hadn’t thought enough of her to show her the same respect. _Did the whole team know?_ she wondered idly. “And I’m never going to put them in danger. If we move forward, we do this on my terms.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Oscar asked. “These are your terms. This is all _your_ plan. And it’s time to get started. Here.” He withdrew another object from his pocket and held it out to her.

Jane eyed the pen as if it were a venomous snake coiled to strike. “What is that?”

“It’s an exact replica of Mayfair’s pen,” Oscar told her.

“How do you know what Mayfair’s pen looks like?” Jane asked incredulously. “Do you have cameras in there?”

“No,” Oscar denied. “We have . . . another way.”

 _Another way? Did that mean they had someone else on the inside?_ Jane wondered. The idea that her teammates were being spied on disturbed her more than the idea that she herself was being watched. And then she recalled that she had been lied to and wondered why she still cared so much.

Oscar held the pen out to Jane once more. “I need you to swap them. Bring me hers.”

“So . . . you wipe my memory; you tattoo my entire body; and then you send me to the FBI so I can steal a pen,” Jane said flippantly. Oscar huffed out a laugh, a grin splitting his face, and then he laughed again a bit louder. “ _What?”_

“You’re still . . . you’re still _you.”_

Jane refused to be diverted from the issue at hand. “What is it?” she demanded, glancing at the pen in his hand once more. “A bug? A tracker? Because I won’t betray my team.” No matter that they hadn’t extended her the same courtesy.

“It’s not a betrayal; it’s a pen,” Oscar assured her. “A regular pen.”

Jane advanced into Oscar’s space until there were only inches separating them. “How do I know that you weren’t holding a gun to my head during that video?”

“I’ve never pointed a gun at you,” Oscar grinned. “I know better. And if you really thought that, you wouldn’t be here. You’d have sent your team. But you didn’t. Because somehow, you know that you’re not one of them, that you’re just a cog in their machine, welcome while useful, disposable the second you’re not. Weller’s already proven that.”

Jane swallowed hard, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the kiss she and Kurt had shared in what already felt like a lifetime ago. She’d been certain she never could have felt more safe, loved and cherished than she did at that moment. And now . . . “What about the man at my safe house with the beard? Was he with you? With us?”

Oscar placed the pen in Jane’s hand and curled her fingers around it. “Bring me that pen, and I’ll give you more answers.” He turned and disappeared into the blackness, leaving Jane staring down at the pen.

She tore it apart when she returned home, searching carefully for any indications it was more than it seemed, but as Oscar had said, it was just a pen. She tossed and turned all night, Oscar’s words playing on a repeating loop in her head in her dreams, and she awoke in the morning no closer to a decision on what to do.

She was standing in front of her locker fingering the pen when Kurt walked in. “Morning,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Jane said tightly as she turned to face her _ex-husband_ for the first time. He looked the same as ever, just as solid and reassuring, and only the fact that she couldn’t explain how she had learned of their marriage kept her from demanding an explanation about it. About why it had _ended_. She knew instinctively that none of this would have ever happened to her if they’d stayed together. Why couldn’t he have loved her the way she’d come to care for him?

Why couldn’t he have been as wonderful as he seemed?

Kurt saw a myriad of emotions flicker in Jane’s eyes, most of them gone too quickly for him to decipher, but he was certain that he’d seen a flash of anger—and he had no doubt of its cause. “I wanted to say sorry about last night. I should have told you that I wasn’t coming.” He paused for a split second, hoping she would interrupt him to explain why she hadn’t showed. “The two of us . . . it’s too complicated.”

 _Complicated,_ Jane thought as she choked back the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. _No kidding._ Even for a man of few words, that had to be the biggest understatement of the century. “Right.” She couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm out of her voice. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. I don’t . . . I don’t want things to be awkward.”

From where she stood, they were _long_ past that, and Jane felt anger surge within her once more. Fortunately, Reade popped his head in to announce that Patterson needed them in her lab at once before she could cast caution to the wind and demand an explanation.

As if her emotions weren’t raw enough, the case took them on a roller coaster ride of its own. A supposedly dead Army vet shot up a military base, and it turned out that he’d been the victim of a medical experiment to create a super-soldier, his memory wiped just like her own. She looked into Charlie’s eyes and saw all the loneliness and fear and anger she had felt when she first emerged from her bag. The same emotions she was feeling today. She was just as surrounded by strangers now as she had been then.

“Her son killed three people, and all she wants to do is hug him,” Jane commented as she and Kurt observed Charlie’s reunion with his mother.

“She got him back,” Kurt said with a meaningful glance at Jane. “That’s all she cares about.”

 _What the hell did that mean?_ Jane wondered. He’d made it clear only a few short hours ago that he had no interest in having her back, and she was growing weary of the mixed signals he was sending her. She was tired of all the secrets and lies. “Why did you stop talking to your dad?” she asked abruptly.

Kurt was startled by the question. “It’s . . . complicated, Jane.”

His relationship with his father was complicated. _They_ were too complicated. Everything was complicated, and she was _sick_ of it. “So explain it to me. What could he have done that was so bad you haven’t talked to him in over a decade?”

 _He tried to molest you._ Kurt’s jaw clenched at the memory, but he could hardly say _that._ “He was a terrible father,” he told Jane hoarsely. “He was distant. He was drunk. He was abusive to Sarah, and . . . and he tried to hurt someone I cared— _care—_ very much about.”

 _Her?_ Jane wondered, but she was suddenly much less eager to press the issue. She certainly couldn’t take anything Kurt told her at face value any longer anyway.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. They weren’t able to save the other four soldiers who were being experimented on with Charlie, but fortunately they did arrive in time to save him. Unfortunately, he’d had his memory wiped again, and Kurt was forced to shoot him in the shoulder when he levelled Jane’s own gun at her after a brief fight.

Jane kept pressure on Charlie’s wound until the paramedics arrived, and she stepped aside to give them room to work, standing well apart from the team. She was still standing alone when they loaded him into the ambulance and drove away.

“The, uh . . . the paramedics think Charlie is going to be fine,” Kurt said as he walked over to Jane.

“I’m glad.” Jane was silent for a moment. “You didn’t have to shoot him—”

“Yeah,” Kurt snapped. “I did. Or instead of Charlie leaving in an ambulance, you might have left in a body bag.” His hand clenched into a fist at the thought of how close he had come to losing her again. “If someone puts my team at risk—or you at risk—I don’t second-guess.”

Too bad he hadn’t second-guessed himself when he’d left her without hesitation. Or maybe when he’d _married_ her in the first place. Jane nodded and started to turn away, but his voice stopped her.

“You took some hits yourself,” Kurt said in a softer tone. “Get checked out. We’ll regroup later.”

Jane nodded again silently. It hadn’t escaped her attention that he’d excluded her from the team when he made his point about their safety, and Mayfair’s dressing down upon her return to the NYO only made her feel more isolated. She glanced through the glass as Mayfair left the room, checking to make sure that no one was watching, and swapped Mayfair’s pen out for the one Oscar had given her.

Mayfair still hadn’t made it upstairs when she emerged from the office. She was standing in the bullpen with Kurt and a man Jane didn’t recognize, engaged in an apparently heated conversation, and they all turned to look at her as she started past.

“Jane Doe,” the unfamiliar man greeted, holding out his hand to her. “It’s nice to see you again.” He pulled his hand back when she stared at him in confusion, making no move to shake it.

“You . . . know me?” Jane asked hesitantly.

“We met a few times,” the man told her. “I’m Assistant US Attorney Matthew Weitz—and I have some questions for you.”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat. “About . . .?”

“About . . .” Weitz drew out the word. “About the man you call Oscar, and his role in the disappearance of Tom Carter.”

Jane felt like sinking through the floor as two sets of very confused eyes turned to her.

xxx

“Jane?” Kurt frowned as she took on a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “What is Weitz talking about? Who is Oscar?”

“Before you attempt to deny that, how about we take this somewhere more private?” Weitz suggested, mindful of the curious stares being levelled their way. “I have something you should see before you answer that.”

“Let’s go into my office,” Mayfair suggested, leading the way in there.

“Have a seat,” Weitz said to Jane, and she reluctantly did so as he pulled a laptop out of his briefcase and set it on the table in front of her. Mayfair and Kurt crowded in close as he took the seat next to her and pulled up a video.

Jane swallowed hard as her image appeared on the screen. “If you’re watching this, then Oscar has made contact,” past her addressed them. “No doubt he’s showed you the video where you said you could trust him, but you _can’t._ The people he’s working with are plotting the overthrow of the US government, and they manipulated you into joining them under . . . false pretenses. When you learned the truth, you enlisted Weitz to help you stop them. You can trust him . . . and Kurt Weller.”

The video came to an end, but Jane continued to stare at her frozen image on the screen, feeling as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her as her world was upended for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

“Who is Oscar?” Kurt asked once more.

Jane stared down at her hands as snippets of her recent conversations played through her mind. _Weller’s lying through his teeth . . . You weren’t just his friend; you were his wife . . . You’re just a cog in their machine, welcome while useful, disposable the second you’re not . . . She got him back. That’s all she cares about . . . You can’t trust Oscar . . . you can trust Weller . . . Weller . . . Weller . . .”_

She sucked in a breath and took a leap of faith. “Oscar is— _was_ —my . . . fiancé.” She chanced a glance over her shoulder at Kurt, only to find him staring at her with a thunderous expression. “I did tell you I thought I’d been engaged once before.”

 _Yes, but he’d assumed he had been the fiancé she was referring to._ “When did you meet this Oscar?” Kurt demanded.

Jane swallowed hard. “The night you and I . . . the night before our mission in the Black Sea.” She kept her gaze on the table in front of her as she came clean about the rest of it, Carter’s men abducting her off the street, being taken to the abandoned warehouse and tortured, Oscar’s timely rescue of her.

“You should have told us this at once,” Mayfair snapped. She placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder as she stiffened. “We would have taken you straight to the hospital to get checked out. I never should have agreed to drop your detail.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Kurt said grimly. “Jane slipped her detail to come . . . talk to me that night. I should have walked her home.” He was silent for a moment. “But I don’t understand why you haven’t told me any of this before now. You had no business keeping a secret like this from me— _us.”_

“Really?” Jane’s eyes blazed with cold fury as she deliberately rose and turned to face Kurt. “ _I_ had no business keeping a secret like this?” She withdrew their marriage license from her pocket and slapped it against his chest. “What about the secret _you’ve_ been keeping?”

Kurt’s heart sank as he unfolded the paper. “Jane. I can explain—”

“I ordered Kurt to keep your marriage a secret,” Mayfair intervened. “And that was as much out of consideration for you as him. I didn’t see any benefit in airing your past dirty laundry for the whole of the FBI to gossip over.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t hear the news from me, instead of . . . someone you don’t really remember,” Kurt apologized. “Borden and I did suggest that we tell you the truth after you’d been here a while, but Mayfair didn’t think the time was right yet.”

“ _Borden_ knew too?” Jane was incensed at the realization that the man to whom she had confided her most intimate thoughts and feelings about Kurt had been aware the entire time that she had been _literally_ intimate with him.

“He’s the only other person who knows besides the three—four—of us,” Kurt corrected with a glance at Weitz.

Jane’s brow furrowed as she recalled Mayfair’s words. “What did you mean, ‘air our dirty laundry?’ What . . . what happened between us?”

“What did this Oscar tell you?” Kurt asked gently.

“He . . . he said that you took advantage of my mother dying to marry me when I was still a child, and divorced me six years later. He suggested that it was because you were tired of me, or found someone else, or wanted your half of my inheritance.” She faltered her way through her final words as Kurt’s expression became thunderous. “It didn’t happen that way, did it?”

Kurt took a deep breath to restrain his temper. And then another and another. “It’s true that I married you when you were only just sixteen, but that was with your mother’s blessing, in order to keep you out of foster care. I’ve never touched a dime of your inheritance, although I certainly could have, since it’s still in a joint account, and I never so much as looked at another woman while we were married. And most importantly, _nothing_ happened between us until well after you’d come of age. If you believe nothing else I’ve told you, please believe that.”

“I do,” Jane said softly. “I believe you, Kurt. Everything Oscar told me seemed so out of character for you, but he had proof you had lied to me, so I . . .”

“You couldn’t help wondering what else I had been less than honest about,” Kurt finished for Jane. “It’s perfectly understandable. I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I felt like I was caught between a rock and a hard place when you put me on the spot like that.”

Jane nodded. “I get it.” She was silent for a moment. “Our breakup . . . it was my fault, wasn’t it? That’s why you were so angry at me when I first arrived.”

“No!” Kurt said adamantly. “I mean, I thought it was your fault, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “You sent me a letter after I left for Quantico claiming to have met someone else and wanting a divorce, but I believe that you were trying to protect me or were forced to write it. I’ve talked to your roommate from back then, and she’s adamant that you weren’t interested in anyone else.”

“I’d have had to been crazy to look twice at anyone else, much less left you for them,” Jane commented, and blushed as she realized the implication of her words.

Kurt swallowed hard as her words reignited the hope that they could have a future together that had been all but extinguished when she hadn’t shown up last night. “Yes, well . . . I think Carter was involved somehow. I got the sense he recognized you when he first saw you, and your roommate showed me a picture of him arguing with you that she took shortly before you left Stanford. He also fits the description of a man my father spoke to around that time in Clearfield. But I’m afraid the truth about his interest in you died with him.”

“No,” Mayfair said quietly. “It didn’t.” She took a deep breath as their eyes snapped to hers, and she held up a hand as Kurt opened his mouth to demand an explanation. “Just . . . let me get this out, okay? Carter . . . Carter approached Taylor to recruit her for a joint FBI/CIA mission to take down an international arms dealer. The operation was codenamed Orion.”

“You’re telling me that the head of one of the most sophisticated spy organizations in the world decided to recruit a college girl with no experience in that world, rather than one of the legions of trained agents at his disposal?” Kurt asked in disbelief. “Even if that were true, why would Taylor go along with it?”

“Because that arms dealer, Andrew Hunter, was her biological father,” Mayfair informed Kurt quietly. “ _Your_ father, Jane. And you weren’t an only child; you were a twin. I don’t really know the particulars of how or why your mother escaped with only you and not your sister Brianne as well, but based on the intel the CIA shared with us, your father was narcissistic and controlling, and your mother was in fear for her life, so I imagine she had no other choice.”

“We were identical twins, weren’t we?” Jane asked Mayfair. “I remembered her,” she continued when the woman nodded. “I remembered Brianne.” She looked at Kurt. “That was why I rushed out of your place the night you invited me over for dinner. When Sawyer asked me where I went after we lost touch, I had this flashback of kneeling beside myself as I was pinned in a burning building, dying. I’ve been struggling to make sense of it ever since.”

“That must have been when Carter called in the drone strike on your father’s compound,” Mayfair said grimly. “The CIA’s initial plan was to have you find leverage on him that would enable them to use him as an asset, but Carter got intel that your father had acquired a nuclear weapon, and he . . . he jumped the gun. The intel was later proven to be faulty, but by then . . .” She shook her head. “I am so sorry, Jane.”

“So you knew who I was before we even met,” Kurt said harshly. “Why my _wife_ left me. Or was that _why_ you took such an interest in me? Because—”

“No!” Mayfair interrupted desperately. “It wasn’t like that, Weller, I swear. I took an interest in you because I saw what incredible potential you had as an agent, not because of your connection to Orion. I didn’t even know you _were_ connected to it. It’s the truth,” she protested at his disbelieving look. “You’d been divorced for _years_ before we met, and I never knew your ex-wife’s name until Jane showed up. Not that it would have made any difference. Carter always referred to Taylor by her birth name, Marissa.”

“And if you had known,” Kurt demanded, “would you have told me?”

“Probably not.” Mayfair shrugged helplessly. “What good would it have done, Kurt? Marissa—Taylor—had been dead for years by then, and her and Brianne’s deaths haunted me every day. All telling you would have accomplished was for you to carry that same weight. You would have blamed yourself for Taylor’s death, no matter that _she_ lied to you and left you. As your boss . . . as your _friend . . ._ I wouldn’t have wanted that for you. But I’m very thankful that you got her back.”

“Actually . . .” Weitz had been silent throughout the conversation, allowing them to get up to speed and taking the opportunity to get caught up on details he’d been in the dark about, but he couldn’t keep silent any longer. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Jane isn’t Marissa. She’s Brianne.”


	16. Chapter 16

The room went deathly silent at Weitz’s pronouncement. Kurt reeled back as if he’d been punched in the gut. If Jane wasn’t Marissa, then . . . “That’s impossible,” he said when he could finally draw a full breath. “Jane is Marissa. She _has_ to be Marissa.”

“Kurt,” Mayfair said softly.

“ _No!”_ Kurt was adamant. “Jane has the scar that Taylor got climbing with me as a kid. Brianne wouldn’t have that. And—”

“Actually,” Jane interrupted hesitantly, “I’ve been having flashbacks of the time right after the explosion, and I remember feeling a bandage on the back of my neck then. I think . . . I think I got that scar in the explosion.”

“It’s possible,” Mayfair said thoughtfully. “It certainly makes sense that you would have been injured then. Scars can’t be dated, unfortunately, but apart from the location, there’s nothing distinctive about yours that would set it apart from your sister’s. And that would certainly explain why you haven’t recovered any memories of Kurt.”

“ _No!”_ Kurt said desperately once more. “No, that’s not possi—”

“Kurt,” Jane said gently. His eyes were red-rimmed as they met her gaze, and she felt her heart break at the pain in their depths. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I could change places with Marissa . . . if I could give her back to you . . . I would.”

It was such a Taylor-like thing to say that Kurt felt fresh agony sear through his heart as he looked into the eyes he still couldn’t quite believe weren’t his wife’s. He turned his back on the other occupants of the room, closing his eyes as he struggled to come to grips with a world without Taylor in it, to make sense of his life once more without her, and after a moment, Jane came over and hesitantly wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her to him without hesitation, cradling her head against his heart as the two of them grieved together for the loved one they had both lost, the woman one of them couldn’t remember and the other would never forget.

He was dimly aware of Mayfair speaking to Weitz, suggesting that he give them time to come to grips with all they had just learned and regroup tomorrow to formulate a plan, but he could never afterwards remember how he made it home. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass, and dropped heavily onto the couch. The whiskey burned its way down his throat, and he closed his eyes as his mind flashed back to a similar occasion long ago . . .

xxx

_San Francisco, California_

_September 2004_

God, it had been a shitty day. Kurt took another healthy swallow of scotch as he sat alone in his darkened apartment. He’d had rough days on the job before, but nothing had prepared him for the carnage he’d witnessed today. A drunk driver had t-boned a young woman with her whole life ahead of her and snuffed out that future in an instant—a young woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Taylor. For an instant, he’d thought . . .

Kurt pushed that thought aside as he reached for his phone and punched in her number, no longer able to resist calling her. Desperately needing to hear the sound of her voice to reassure himself that she was okay.

It seemed to take an eternity for the call to go through, and his hands shook as he waited. “Kurt?” Taylor’s voice was cheery, and he closed his eyes, basking in the sound of it. “Kurt?” she prompted again when he didn’t respond, suddenly sounding much less upbeat. “Are you there? Is everything okay?”

“I’m here. I'm fine,” Kurt managed, sounding less than convincing, even to himself. “I just . . . had a rough day at work, and I miss you. Tell me about your day.”

Taylor obliged, and he drifted off to the sound of her voice. A smile crept to his lips as he slept, images from one of his favorite dreams of her playing across his mind. But this time, it was so real he could practically _feel_ her hand in his. “I love you,” he murmured. “God, I love you, Taylor. I always have and I always will.”

“I love you too,” Taylor choked out, her eyes filling with tears as she threw herself into his arms and kissed him.

Kurt’s eyes flew open as her lips touched his, belatedly realizing that this was no dream, but instead of pushing her away as he knew he should, his arms banded around her as he deepened the kiss. He could no more resist her in this moment than he could the oxygen he needed to breathe. Although she was stealing that away from him as well.

She slipped her hands under his shirt, and the touch recalled him to reality. “Taylor,” he said as he broke the kiss and gently pulled her hands away. “We can’t do this.”

“Why?” Taylor asked in frustrated confusion as she slipped off Kurt’s lap and took a seat beside him on the couch. “I love you, and you just told me you loved me. So what’s the problem?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Kurt muttered, glancing away, hoping she would just chalk it up to the alcohol he had consumed.

He should have known that was a vain hope. “Why not?” Taylor asked bluntly. “Did you not mean it?”

Kurt drew a deep breath. His confession had put him in an impossible spot. He had never lied to her, and he wasn’t about to start now, but nothing could come of it. “I meant it. But I never meant to _say_ it.” He glanced back at her as he spoke, hating the pain his words put in her eyes. “I promised your mom I would never take advantage of this situation, Taylor. And I won’t.”

“And you fulfilled that promise,” Taylor shot back. “I’m not a child any longer, Kurt. I’m a grown woman who knows her own mind—and I am head over heels in love with you. I don’t need you to protect me, especially not from yourself. I just need you to love me.”

“I do,” Kurt groaned. “But—”

“No buts,” Taylor said tenderly as she took his face in her hands and caressed the tears he hadn’t even realized he had shed from his cheeks with her thumbs. “Trust me, Mom would be thrilled for us. She left me a letter giving us her blessing if we ever decided we wanted to make a real marriage out of this. I never showed it to you because I never thought . . .”

She shook her head. “I’ll let you read it later, I promise. But for now . . .” She leaned in until their faces were so close they were sharing breath once more and waited until the despair in his eyes had been replaced completely with hopeful anticipation before sealing their lips together once more. “Make me your wife, Kurt,” she murmured.

Kurt swept her up in his arms, grinning at her surprised shriek as he stood, and carried her down the hallway to his bedroom. He sat down on the bed, cradling her in his lap as he resumed kissing her, and when she had melted completely into his embrace, he gently traced her lips with his tongue, seeking entrance. She opened for him with a soft moan, and he groaned in turn as his tongue brushed against hers, still hardly able to believe this was actually happening.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked her when they finally drew apart for air, studying her closely as she nodded. Things had changed between them quickly—maybe too quickly. She was still so innocent of what was about to happen between them, and as erotic as he found the notion that she would always be completely his, he didn’t want to rush into this and cause her to have regrets. They had their whole lives ahead of them to enjoy this, after all. “If you want me to slow down or . . . or stop at any point—”

“I’ll tell you,” Taylor promised, and Kurt leaned in to kiss her again when another thought occurred to him.

“Shit,” he cursed as he drew back. “We can’t do this now. I don’t have any protection.” He might have gotten the love and marriage before he became an FBI agent, but he wasn’t about to follow that up with kids before they were both ready. He was determined to see Taylor get through medical school first. He never wanted to be the cause of her not achieving any of her dreams.

“It’s okay,” Taylor assured him. “I got an implant when we moved out here.” She smiled at his surprised look. “I’m ready for this, Kurt. I have been for a long time.” She closed the distance between them and kissed him. He groaned as she once again slipped her hands beneath his shirt, and she smiled as she felt his muscles flex beneath her palms as he pulled her closer.

Taylor tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Kurt obligingly leaned back to yank it off. She’d seen him shirtless before, but she couldn’t help her appreciative perusal. Her cheeks flamed with color as she met his heated gaze, and she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his chest, relishing her newfound freedom to touch him.

Kurt shifted, flopping back against his pillow and drawing Taylor down with him. “I’m all yours.” Taylor stared down at him, not understanding, and he reached a hand up to cup her cheek. “I thought I’d let you take the lead for a while, okay? I’m here for you— _with_ you—but I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Silly man,” Taylor murmured as she pulled her own shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, leveling the playing field to his admiring gaze. “There’s nothing you could ever do with me or to me that I wouldn’t be comfortable with. I trust you, Kurt.”

She reached for the button on her pants, but Kurt stilled her hands. “Let me.” He sat up and pulled them oh so slowly down her legs, drinking in every inch of skin he exposed, and then placed his hands back on her hips, waiting until she nodded before removing her panties as well, leaving her completely bare before him.

“My turn,” Taylor whispered, the shy tone of her voice at odds with the steadiness of her hands as she unzipped his jeans. He stood, and she pushed them and his boxers off him in one fell swoop, gasping slightly as her eyes took in the evidence of his desire for her. She glanced up at him as he laid back down and when he nodded, she tentatively wrapped a hand around his burgeoning erection.

Kurt closed his hand over hers, showing her just how he liked to be touched, how much pressure to apply, and she proved to be such a quick study that it wasn’t long before he had to pull her hands away. “Did I do something wrong?” Taylor asked in confusion.

“Not at all,” Kurt reassured her. “In fact, if you did anything more right, this would be over much too soon.” He just hoped he could hold out long enough to make this as pleasurable for her as she already had for him. It had been far too long since he had done this, and he was already wild with desire for her. “It’s your turn now.”

Taylor took a deep breath as she reached for Kurt’s hand. She closed her eyes as she brought it up to cup her breast, but they flew open again almost instantly as he brushed his thumb across a nipple. “Oh,” she gasped softly, and he smiled at her before leaning down to take the sensitized peak in his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking gently.

She’d thought she’d known what to expect, but no amount of research could have prepared her for the sensations Kurt was evoking in her as he kissed a path from one breast to the other and gave it the same attention, each gentle pull of his mouth sending jolts of electricity straight to her core until she was writhing beneath him. “Kurt,” she whispered desperately. “I need . . .”

She paused, not even sure how to put into words what she was longing for, but fortunately he understood. He cupped her jaw as he leaned back in to kiss her, tracing a path down her belly with his free hand but pausing just out of reach of the heart of her desire. She groaned in frustration. “Kurt, _please.”_

Kurt’s eyes locked with hers as he gently parted her folds with one finger and felt the dampness gathering there. She was nearly ready for him, but he wanted to ensure that this was as painless as possible for her. He swirled a finger around her swollen clit before slipping it inside her, smiling as she moaned and instinctively lifted her hips at his touch.

“You’re sure?” he asked when he finally moved on top of her, searching her eyes for any flicker of uncertainty and relieved to find nothing but love and desire reflected there.

“I’m sure,” Taylor replied confidently, and Kurt leaned down to kiss her one more time before guiding himself inside her, inch by painstaking inch. He nuzzled her neck once he was fully inside, too overcome by the feeling of her wet heat surrounding him like a glove to speak, but waiting until he felt the tension ebb from her body before he began to move.

He set a slow and gentle pace, watching her closely, and it wasn’t long before she began lifting her hips to his, matching his movements thrust for thrust. He gritted his teeth as he felt her inner muscles begin to clench around him, willing himself to hold on for her, and he quickly pressed a finger against her clit to help her along.

She came with a choked cry, her green eyes beautifully unfocused, and he followed her over that cliff with a murmured assurance of his love for her.

xxx

Taylor hadn’t given him long to bask in the afterglow, Kurt recalled with a bittersweet smile as tears rolled unchecked and unnoticed down his cheeks. He’d rolled onto his back as soon as he was capable of conscious thought, pulling her with him so that she was sprawled across his chest, and he was just dozing off when she spoke. “Don’t fall asleep,” she told him. “We have to get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” he grumbled. He never wanted to leave this bed again. He never wanted to let her leave the safety of his arms. “Please, Tali.”

Taylor glanced down at him in confusion at the unfamiliar name. “Tali?”

“Mmm,” Kurt said. “You told me when we got engaged that I’d have to find a new nickname for you, and I finally did. Tali is Hebrew for dew.” He’d found it when he was researching nicknames for Taylor, wanting something out of the ordinary like her, and it was especially appropriate now, since it would forever remind him of the dewy expression in her eyes as she came for him the first time.

“I love it,” Taylor said, leaning down to kiss him.

“I love you,” Kurt returned. He paused. “I’d love you even more if you didn’t make me get up. Why do we have to get out of bed again?”

“Because,” Taylor said, punctuating her words with kisses, “we . . . are going . . . on a mini honeymoon.” She rolled off him and got to her feet. “But you can stay in bed for a while longer. I’ll pack for both of us.”

“You have school tomorrow,” Kurt pointed out, but his halfhearted objection fell on deaf ears.

Taylor shrugged. “I’ll play hooky. My grades are good enough that it won’t hurt me to miss a day, and Monday’s a holiday, so we can make a four-day weekend out of this. Besides . . .” She ran her eyes appreciatively down his naked form, and his breath caught in his throat as he returned the favor, already looking forward to making love to her again, “I’m not ready to get back to real life just yet.”

“I’m not sure I could let you go anyway,” Kurt said huskily as he got out of bed and retrieved their suitcases from the closet. They dressed and packed in near-record time, and before he knew it, they were on the freeway headed south, Taylor driving since he was still feeling the lingering effects of the alcohol in his system. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Someplace you’ve been promising to take me for a while,” Taylor told him, keeping her attention focused on the road in front of her. “The happiest place on earth.”

“Disneyland?” Kurt was stunned. “But that’s an eight-hour drive!”

“Yep,” Taylor agreed. “It’s a good thing I’m well-rested. You should probably take a nap on the way. You’ve had a hard day, and you’re going to need plenty of energy later. We’re going to be busy, busy, busy when we get there.”

And not just at the theme park, judging from her suggestive tone. “And you’re crazy, crazy, crazy,” Kurt retorted, loving their playful banter.

“About you, yep,” Taylor grinned as she glanced over at him, effectively silencing him.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, taking her suggestion, and the next thing he knew, she was gently shaking him awake. He followed her into their hotel room, and the moment the door closed behind them, his mouth was on hers. They fell onto the bed together, all thoughts of the Magic Kingdom that awaited them fading as they focused on the magic they were creating between themselves . . .

xxx

_New York City_

_Present Day_

Those next four days had truly been the most magical of his life, Kurt recalled with a bittersweet smile. They’d talked and laughed as they explored the park, Taylor snuggling up to him as they rode the rides, using the scary ones as an excuse to cling even more tightly to him, and when desire inevitably got the better of them, they’d return to their room for another round of lovemaking before venturing out again.

It had been the best mini-honeymoon he could have ever asked for.

And now she was gone. Taking all his renewed hopes and dreams for the future with her.

Kurt buried his face in his hands and wept.

xxx

She’d had a sister. Kurt was her brother-in-law. Those two thoughts played on a repeating loop in Jane’s head as she sank numbly down onto her couch. She felt like she should cry, scream, express some kind of emotion at having her entire world upended once more, but the only thing she wanted to do was the one thing she absolutely couldn’t any longer.

She wanted to call Kurt.

 _What the hell had she been thinking, to target Kurt like this?_ Jane wondered. She should leave, just pack up her meager possessions and disappear, spare him the agony of seeing the face of the woman he loved on a stranger ever again. But just as soon as she’d made up her mind to do that, she realized doing so could put him in even greater danger from the group she’d been a part of. She owed it to her sister to make sure that the man she had loved fiercely enough to walk away from was safe.

She owed it to _Kurt._

Still, the thought of facing him tomorrow . . . Pain lanced through her heart, and Jane bit down so hard on her lower lip that it bled. It hadn’t been her all this time that Kurt had comforted, laughed with, _kissed._ It hadn’t been her . . . but god, how she wished it were.

What kind of person did that make her? Not only jealous of the love a man had for another woman, but her own _sister._ Her _dead_ sister, who had clearly been a much better human being than she was. And in honor of her memory, she would do the only decent, the only _right_ thing she could, and eliminate the threat she had brought into Kurt’s life before walking away forever. It wasn’t her that he was seeing when he looked at her, but Taylor, and she would do well to remember that.

She would do well not to fall any more in love with _her sister’s husband_ than she already was. And when it was time to go, she would wish him well and walk away with a smile on her face and her head held high. Even if it all but killed her to do so.

The numbness was replaced with a searing agony, and Jane drew her knees up to her chest and wept.


End file.
